


Illusions

by ItalianHobbit



Series: The Princes of Ered Luin [5]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feels, Fíli Whump, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Insane Fíli, Kili pov, Kili whump, Kíli-centric, No Slash, Obscure Tolkien Mythology, Slow Burn, Stubborn Kíli, Supernatural Elements, Thorin's A+ Parenting, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-27
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2017-12-21 12:59:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 121,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/900601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItalianHobbit/pseuds/ItalianHobbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fíli and Kíli get in a fight, and Fíli stomps off on his own... but when he doesn't return, it's up to Kíli to find him. But something has happened to Fíli, and he no longer seems to be the brother Kíli knows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fight

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Race Against Time](https://archiveofourown.org/works/900564) by [ItalianHobbit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItalianHobbit/pseuds/ItalianHobbit). 



> Hey, everyone! Here's a new fic for you! It's not necessarily a sequel to Race Against Time, but the events in that fic still happened, according to this one - thirty-seven years before. For those of you who didn't read it, the premise was that Fíli accidentally shot Kíli with an arrow one day (in the side, and it punctured his lung), and pretty much everything goes wrong, but Kíli pulls through and yeah. That's all you need to know for this fic, as far as I can determine.
> 
> In this fic, I'm dealing with some obscure Tolkien mythology, so I wanted to announce that right away. It's not mentioned much in popular Tolkien canon, but there are more sentient creatures in the world of Tolkien besides the Free Peoples of Middle-Earth (Elves, Men, Dwarves, Hobbits, & Ents). There are all sorts of fey creatures - as Tolkien says, pixies, faeries, leprawns, et cetera. Other examples of fey creatures in popular canon: the Huorns and Tom Bombadil (who I think is one of these fey creatures, but that's up to your interpretation). So if you didn't know that - now you do!

It was summer in the Blue Mountains, and nothing could be finer.

Fíli and Kíli lay under a canopy of towering trees, their vibrant green leaves swishing and swaying in the gentle breeze; warm sunlight dappled the forest floor and kissed their faces. The air was thick with the scent of dirt and moss in the midst of the forest, but as the wind filtered through the trees, it carried in the fragrance of wildflowers in the meadow. Fíli was gently snoring, and Kíli was…

Well, Kíli was bored.

"Fíli?" he called softly.

A snore was cut short as Fíli's eyelids opened halfway; he looked up at the verdure and blinked slowly.

"What do you want?" said Fíli, his voice thick with the fatigue of sleep.

"Let's go down by the creek," Kíli said.

"Kíli, we just laid the traps," Fíli said. "Can I just rest for a while? We don't have to be home for hours…"

"Right – so let's go do something!" said Kíli. "I heard there's a pixie down by the creek that grants wishes if you catch it…"

Fíli let out an incredulous guffaw and turned to look at his brother.

"A pixie? Are you serious?"

Kíli nodded enthusiastically, and Fíli guffawed again. Kíli's face fell, and Fíli cleared his throat and attempted to put on a less disbelieving expression.

"What would you wish for, anyway?" he said.

"Oh, I don't know," said Kíli, settling back down in the moss and leaves, his hands behind his head. "I'd wish for… gold."

"Gold?"

"Mithril."

"And what would you do with some mithril?"

"I… I dunno."

"That's right."

"Can we go to the creek now?"

Fíli sighed. "Kíli… you're sixty-two years old…"

"Sixty-two years old and  _bored out of my skull._ "

Fíli closed his eyes and made no move to get up.

" _Fíli…_ "

"You go ahead. I'll catch up later," Fíli said. "Ten minutes."

With a resigned sigh, Kíli pulled himself to his feet and dusted the dirt off of his back. He glanced at Fíli one more time, but his brother had already started to snore again. When had Fíli gotten so _boring_?

"Ten minutes?" he said.

Fíli made no reply.

Kíli shrugged and shouldered his bow and quiver, leaving his snoring brother to rest. He made his way expertly through the trees, following a long-since memorized path to the clearing between the woods and the small village in which they resided. He turned south and headed downhill; he could hear the creek before he could see it. The previous week had been dark and gloomy, with torrential rain every day; as such, the creek had taken on much water, its banks swollen to overflowing. The creek resembled a rushing river more than the gentle stream it usually was, and Kíli kept a wide berth from its shores. He had never learned to swim.

Kíli knew that Fíli did not put much stock in the existence of pixies, but Kíli was convinced of it. He had spent many a night listening to Bofur and Bombur's wild tales, and Balin had given him a book about pixies, faeries, leprawns, and other such creatures. He had hungrily devoured every word, from dwarfling to the current day – he was sure that they existed, especially after hearing Glóin's tale of a man he had met in the Old Forest, a legendary man who was known as Forn to the Dwarves. Glóin claimed to have met him once – a creature of dwarf-height, or a little taller, with a blue coat and bright yellow boots and a feather in his cap.

"No mortal man was he, mark my words," Glóin had said, though Óin had scoffed. "He was Forn, I tell ye, and no one else. He made ye feel… odd. But a nice fellow."

Fíli had joined Óin in scoffing, but Kíli and Gimli believed every word.

So it was that Kíli searched for the pixie in earnest, though he was not entirely sure how to search for a pixie, or how to catch one even if he managed to find it. He would cross that bridge when he came to it.

After a fruitless search, Kíli sat down at the bank of the creek, picking at the grass and watching the water rush by. He had never seen the waters so high; he drew up his knees, watching the creek warily.

"Looking for me?"

Kíli started and looked to his left – the voice had seemed to be coming from right next to his ear, but there was nothing there.

"I heard you were."

Now the voice was coming from his right. It was thin and reedy, but feminine, and full of mirth. He looked to his right, but again saw no one. He stood to his feet and turned around in a circle, but he seemed to be alone, save for the telltale giggling from nearby.

"Who are you?" Kíli called out nervously.

"I am who I wish to be," said the voice on his left. He whirled and caught sight of nothing. "I am many things, but you may call me whatever  _you'd_  like, if you wish."

"Are you… a pixie?" Kíli said, whirling again. The voice tinkled mirthfully.

"If you'd like," said the voice, and Kíli turned to face the rushing creek. Two hands were suddenly on his back, and then Kíli was in the water.

Pure, icy panic filled Kíli's body as the creek swiftly pulled him away and downwards. He tried to take a breath, but instead, he got a mouthful of water and gagged, swallowing involuntarily. For a moment he surfaced, and he tried to call out, but instead, he took in even more water; it burned as it went down his windpipe, it burned so  _much_  – another mouthful of water. He was drowning,  _drowning_ , the water burned so – how could water burn? The current dragged him across the bottom and smashed his face into a rock. Kíli saw stars, even with his eyes closed, and more water burned down his throat.

Where was Fíli? Surely Fíli should have made it to the creek by now. Surely Fíli would find him and save him – he always did, he was always there, he wouldn't abandon him now. Not his Fíli. His lungs were burning, and he couldn't see. He felt as if the world above water couldn't exist anymore – he was doomed to this, a watery grave. Darkness filtered into Kíli's mind, and he screamed –  _no._  No, not this. Not without Fíli. Never without Fíli. More water rushed into his mouth, and he swallowed it. He was drowning. He was  _drowning_...

Suddenly he was flying. No, not flying – he was being dragged. Where was he? In the sky, it felt like. But everything was so  _wet_. Somewhere, someone was calling his name, but he could not answer. It was so  _dark_...

There was a pressure on his chest. A deep, pounding pressure, and it hurt. He furrowed his brow and wished the pain would go away, and then he retched, coughing up water. It burned as much coming up as it had going down, but he couldn't stop coughing as more water made its way out of his lungs.

The world came rushing back, and Kíli finally gathered that he was no longer in the water, and the person calling his name was Fíli. He reached out blindly for his brother, still coughing and retching; Fíli pulled him up and supported him as he vomited water and bile.

Kíli breathed in then –  _finally_  – with deep, grating gasps, feeling the beautiful air fill his lungs and calming his panic. Fíli pulled him away from his sick and cradled him, touching his forehead to Kíli's.

"You idiot," Fíli whispered. "You bloody, fantastic idiot…"

Kíli wanted to respond, but he was still coughing. Now that his fear was fading, he could feel a hot pounding on the right side of his face where he had collided with a rock, and his whole body felt weak and shaky. Fíli held him tightly until his coughs quieted; then, he pulled him up into a sitting position and looked into Kíli's eyes, his own flooded with fear and relief.

"All right?" he said.

"Yeah, I think so," said Kíli in a gravelly voice. His throat still hurt, but at least he could breathe again. He grinned cheekily. "That was no fun."

Fíli chuckled, his shoulders relaxing, and pulled Kíli into a tight hug. Kíli returned the embrace wholeheartedly.

"Don't ever do that again," Fíli said, his fingers curling into the back of Kíli's dripping shirt. "You're not allowed to die without me, you hear?"

"I'll just pull you in with me next time, then," Kíli said, and Fíli cuffed him gently on the back of the head. They both laughed – a jittery, relieved laugh.

Fíli stood then and pulled Kíli up with him, his arms out to catch the younger dwarf if he fell. Kíli held his own, though his knees felt wobbly; he threw his arm around Fíli's neck and leaned into him, and Fíli was ready for it.

"Forget the traps for now," said Fíli. "Let's get you home."

* * *

Much to Kíli's dismay, he found that his body was much weaker than he had originally thought after his near drowning, and he needed his brother's support the entire way home. So it was that the sight of the two brothers struck fear and worry into their mother before she even knew what had happened. Worse yet, they had an audience; around the table sat not only Dís and Thorin, but also Balin, Dwalin, Óin, and Glóin, all deep in conference as they arrived. All eyes turned to Fíli and Kíli as they stepped into the house, and Dís was on her feet quicker than lightning, followed by Thorin.

"Kíli!" Dís cried, taking his face in her hands and studying him with worried blue eyes. "What happened?"

"M'all right, Mum," Kíli said, cursing the raspy sound of his own voice. "Just – I just fell into the creek."

"Looks like ye did more than just fall in, laddie," said Balin.

"Aye, he looks half-drowned," added Dwalin.

"Well, I—" Kíli faltered as Thorin's sharp eyes met his, and then flitted to Fíli. "I'm fine," he said. "Fíli saved me… everything is fine." He leaned into his older brother, and Fíli straightened, pulling Kíli out of his slouch.

"And what happened to your face?" Thorin said.

Kíli ducked his head, and his hair feel over his cheek. He had forgotten about that.

"I hit it on a rock," he mumbled. "It's  _fine_.  _I'm_  fine."

"Óin?" said Dís, turning to face the old apothecary. He studied Kíli's face intently, and Kíli straightened, doing his best to look healthy and whole, though his cheeks burned with embarrassment.

"Better follow me, lad," said Óin, nodding towards Kíli's bedroom. Fíli started to help him that way, but Thorin spoke:

"Fíli, you stay out here."

Kíli cast Fíli a helpless glance as Dís pulled him away and out of the kitchen, his heart sinking. He should have known this would happen – he wished he had better hidden his fatigue.

Dís led him into his room and shut the door after Óin had joined them; he sat down on the bed, listening intently for the low rumble of Thorin's voice.

"Kíli, pay attention."

Kíli turned his gaze to Óin, waiting for instruction. The first thing Óin did was spread something thin and cool over his cheek, and Kíli wondered where on earth he had procured the ointment from as the pounding on his cheekbone melted away. He could hear Fíli's voice, and he could tell by his brother's tone that he was trying to defend himself. Kíli cringed.

"How long were you under, lad?" said Óin.

"I don't… I don't know," said Kíli. He avoided his mother's gaze. "It felt like forever."

"Did you lose consciousness?"

Kíli shook his head. Then, after a moment's thought, he added, "Almost, I think. I don't know. It was all sort of a blur…"

"What can you remember?" said Óin.

Kíli cast a sidelong glance at Dís, hesitant to relay his story in her presence, but he knew that there was no getting out of this.

"I was p—" He stopped, glancing up at Óin and remembering how he had scoffed at Glóin's story about Forn and the fey creatures of the Old Forest. "I mean... I fell into the creek. I swallowed a lot of water… and breathed it… it hurt a lot. Then Fíli pulled me out, everything was sort of – dark – and I think he must've been pounding on my chest or something—"

"Good lad," said Óin. "Looks like he knows  _some_  first aid, at least."

Kíli nodded. "Then I coughed up water, and I – I threw up – but I'm fine now. Really." He looked up at Óin pleadingly, begging him silently to believe him, but the old, grey dwarf simply watched him skeptically. Fíli and Thorin were still talking in the kitchen.

"I'm  _fine_ ," said Kíli again.

"Sit up straight for me and take a deep breath," was all that Óin said.

Kíli rolled his eyes, but obeyed, ignoring the familiar twinge in his left side. He had never told anyone – and especially not Fíli – but the pain had never fully gone away from the shooting accident so many years ago.

"Any pain?" said Óin.

"None," Kíli lied.

Óin nodded, satisfied.

"He'll be all right, Dís," he said. "Now, Kíli, you should rest for the remainder of the day. No gallivanting about. And take off those wet clothes. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Kíli said, looking down at his lap.

Óin patted his leg affectionately. "We'll leave you to it," he said, and he stood and left the room. Dís moved in front of her son and knelt, resting her arms on his legs. She looked up at him, and Kíli met her gaze.

"Are you  _sure_  you're all right?" she said, pushing Kíli's damp hair behind his ear.

"Really, Mum, I'm  _fine_ ," he said again. "Just tired, is all."

Dís studied his eyes for a long moment, and then nodded.

"All right," she said. "I'll leave you to rest."

After she had left the room, Kíli swung his legs onto the bed and plopped his head down on the pillow, facing away from the door. He placed a hand over his left side and breathed in deeply again; it hurt, but he was an expert at keeping a still expression through the pain. It had been thirty-seven years, and as far as he knew, no one had discovered his secret. It didn't impede his activity anymore – he had fought hard to work through that – but after coming out of the creek, he could tell that the water had irritated something. His breathing was  _not_  fine.

_I'll be all right with some rest,_  he told himself.

The bedroom door opened suddenly behind Kíli, and he heard Fíli stomp inside; he quickly removed his hand from his side and rolled over.

"Hey," he said.

Fíli said nothing.

"Fíli?" said Kíli nervously.

"Irresponsible," Fíli muttered. He sat down on the other side of the bed and removed his boots, tossing them aside as if they disgusted him. "As if it were _my_  fault…"

Kíli shrank a little, but reached out towards his brother.

"F-Fee?"

"Don't  _touch_  me," Fíli snapped, jerking away. Kíli withdrew his hand, unsure what to do. Fíli was rarely angry, and Kíli never knew what to do when he was the cause of it – which seemed to be the case this time. He lay in silence, hesitating, and Fíli removed his outer clothing. As he faced away from Kíli, shrugging off his wet tunic, he spoke.

"What were you even  _thinking_ , Kíli?"

"I didn't – I – I wasn't—"

"You  _know_  you can't swim. You should have known."

Kíli struggled internally as to what to say. He knew – he was certain – that someone – some _thing_  – had pushed him in, but he was not sure that Fíli would believe him.

"I didn't  _mean_  to fall in," Kíli said. "I was just—"

"Looking for pixies?" Fíli whirled around; his eyebrows were drawn together, and a fierce snarl twisted in his lips. " _Really_ , Kíli? How close to the creek were you looking, that you fell in?"

"You weren't angry about this earlier," Kíli muttered, avoiding his brother's gaze.

"I didn't realize that  _I_  would be blamed for  _your_  irresponsibility," Fíli retorted.

"It wasn't my fault!" Kíli exclaimed. "I was – I was—"

"You were what?"

"I was pushed, all right?" said Kíli. "Something pushed me in."

Fíli straightened and eyed Kíli curiously, saying nothing.

"I – I don't know what it was… but it pushed me in, said I'd been looking for it…"

"A pixie?" said Fíli, the words coming out in a snarl. "Really, Kíli? That's the story you're going with?"

"It's not a story!" said Kíli. "That's what happened!"

"I can't believe this," said Fíli, throwing his hands in the air. "You can't even take responsibility for your own actions – you blame it on  _pixies_ —"

"I'm not lying!" said Kíli defensively. His felt a twinge in his left side, but he kept himself still.

"For Mahal's sake, Kíli!" Fíli shouted. "You're really doing this? I just got scolded by Thorin – called irresponsible, should have been watching you, as if you can't look after yourself – never mind that I saved your  _life_ ; of course there's no thanks for that! Scolded in front of Balin and Dwalin and Glóin, like a child!"

"Fíli—"

"Shut up." Fíli threw on a dry tunic and sat down on the bed, pulling his boots back on hastily. "I'm going out. I'm not dealing with you right now."

Kíli swallowed as a lump developed in his throat. He had never meant for this to happen; it wasn't even his fault. It was no one's fault.

"Fíli, please…"

"Don't talk to me!" Fíli snapped. He stomped out of the room and slammed the door behind him. A few moments later, Kíli heard the front door slam as well.

Kíli stared at the bedroom door for a long moment, regret and sorrow sinking down through him painfully. He sat up and peeled off his wet clothes; the air cooled his skin, and goosebumps quickly popped up on his arms and legs. He considered putting on dry clothes, but in his state, he didn't want to do anything but make it right with Fíli, and that was not possible at the moment; so he threw the sopping clothes on the floor and rolled onto his stomach. He pulled the covers over his head and shoved his face into his pillow, willing the building tears away.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to no one.


	2. Missing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I forget again - this entire fic is dedicated to my darling friend Mhyin, who is REALLY AWESOME and has decided to draw an illustration for every chapter of this fic! You can find her illustrations at Mhyin on tumblr.

Kíli awoke with a miserable feeling in his heart and a sharp pain in his side; he looked to his right, but Fíli was not there. He was alone, then. He gritted his teeth and grunted, twisting slightly in an attempt to pull his lung off his ribs. He was rewarded with a terrible scraping feeling, but then the pain melted away; relieved, he relaxed, sinking back into the pillow.

He heard the door open, but ignored it, trying to fall back asleep. His mother's gentle hand touched his back.

"Kíli? Are you awake?"

"Yes," Kíli said into his pillow.

"Are you hungry?"

Kíli considered this. He turned his head to face Dís.

"Yes," he said.

Dís patted his back gently. "There's food ready in the kitchen," she said. "Are you well enough to join us, or shall I-"

"No, I can come out," Kíli said. "Just... give me a few minutes."

"Do you need help?" said Dís

"No!" Kíli said, a little too sharply. "No, I'm fine. Thank you, though."

"...You're sure you're all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine; I just need to... put clothes on," Kíli mumbled.

Dís laughed. "You didn't even bother to dress before getting in bed?"

"No," said Kíli sheepishly, burying his face back into his pillow.  _I was too upset._

"Well, join us when you're clothed," she said good-naturedly. Kíli heard her footsteps make towards the door, and he pulled himself up and called out:

"Is Fíli here?"

Dís stopped in the doorway. "Not yet," she replied. "I'm sure he'll be home soon."

"Hmm," said Kíli; he tried to sound unconcerned, but an unsettling feeling turned his insides. Fíli had gone out on his own before - he would be fine. He was always fine.

The bedroom door clicked shut, and Kíli sank into the mattress for a few moments. He steeled himself and whipped off the covers; cool air floated over his skin, and his hair stood on end. Quickly, he scrambled for clothes and pulled them on, tugging down his tunic as he stepped out into the kitchen. Thorin was sitting casually, his arms behind his head and his feet on the table, and Dis was carrying food over from the stove.

"Get your filthy feet off the table," Dís said, slapping at Thorin's legs. Her brother obliged, but he took his time of it, earning himself a disparaging look. Kíli snorted and sat down as Dís laid down her burden, and he tore at a piece of meat, stuffing it into his mouth unceremoniously.

"Where did everyone go?" Kíli asked through a mouth full of food.

"They left hours ago," said Thorin, focused on the meat in front of him.

Kíli blinked and swallowed his food. He looked out the window; to his surprise, the sun was already setting.

"How long was I asleep?" he said.

"Quite a while," said Dís. She cut off a piece of meat in a decidedly more civilized fashion than her brother and her son. "And you looked like you needed it."

Kíli ducked his head, scowling. "I'm fine," he muttered.

"'Fine' does not look like being half carried home by your brother," said Dís, gently but firmly.

"He wasn't  _carrying_  me - I just - I was just a bit tired-"

"There is no need to pretend, Kíli," said Thorin. "You almost drowned. No one would think less of you for taking time to recover."

Kíli ripped another bite of meat off his chunk and said nothing.

"Ale?" said Thorin.

Kíli grunted, and Thorin rose to retrieve it.

"Did Fíli say when he would be back?" Kíli said.

Dís shook her head. "He didn't say anything to anyone. He just stormed out."

"Almost knocked Balin over, too," said Thorin. "I'll have to talk to him about that." He set a mug of ale before Kíli, who took a long swig and set the mug down with a satisfied sigh. He ripped off another chunk of meat and stuffed it in his mouth.

"Kíli! Slow down," said Dís, eyeing her youngest sharply. Kíli paused and looked at her blankly.

"I'm hungry," he said.

Dís rolled her eyes, but did not scold him again. Instead, she focused her attention on her brother.

"Thorin! Save some food for your nephew."

Thorin raised his eyebrows and gestured at Kíli.

"He's already got plenty."

"Your  _other_  nephew," said Dís. "He'll likely be hungry when he gets home."

"If he comes home," Thorin muttered, eyeing the remaining food wistfully.

Kíli looked up. "What do you mean?" he said.

"Sounded like he needed some space," said Thorin. "He will come back. In his own time."

You think he'll be out all night?" said Kíli, setting down his food and ale as the unsettling feeling returned.

"Honestly, Kíli," said Dís. "Why are you worried? He's a trained fighter, and he's been gone overnight before."

"Not without me," Kíli muttered.

"I thought he didn't want to deal with you right now," said Thorin.

Kíli felt heat rise into his cheeks. "You heard that?"

"It was hard not to."

"You didn't have to scold him like that," said Kíli. "It wasn't his fault."

"That isn't for you to decide," said Thorin sharply, and Kíli bowed his head, chagrined.

"But it wasn't," he said softly.

"Fíli is heir to the throne of Erebor, and as such, he must learn to take responsibility for what has been placed in his charge."

" _Me?_  Uncle, I'm not a child-"

"I've told him to look after you, and he didn't," said Thorin. "It is the duty of an older brother-"

"I don't need looking after!"

"Did your brother just save you from drowning today, or didn't he?" said Thorin, his eyes challenging.

Kíli opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. Yes, Fíli had saved him, but he would only prove to Thorin that he  _did_ need looking after if he pointed out that the rescue meant his brother had  _not_  failed. As much as he wanted to defend Fíli, he did not want to admit that. Instead of speaking, he rose and started for the front door.

"And where do you think you're going?" said Dís, rising and following him.

"I'm going to find Fíli," he said.

"No, no you are  _not_ ," said Dís. She caught up to him and grabbed his shoulders, turning him away from the door and pushing him towards his room. Kíli fought her grip, but she held tight.

" _Mum..._ "

"Sit down and eat, or back to bed with you," she said firmly. "You heard Óin. No gallivanting about. You are to  _rest_."

"I just rested," Kíli protested.

"Your hands are shaking."

Kíli balled his hands into fists, but he knew he had lost the battle. He allowed himself to be pushed back to the table and sat with a huff - one that cost him his breath, but he recovered quickly, missing Thorin's suspicious glance. The three were silent as they ate their fill; when Kíli had finished, he pushed his plate away and laid his arms on the table, dropping his forehead onto them.

"Kíli, why don't you head back to bed?" said Dís.

Kíli shook his head. "I'll wait for Fíli," he said to the table.

"We don't know how long he'll be, love," said Dís. "Come, get back to bed."

"I'm not tired," Kíli said, even as he felt any energy he'd had leaving him. He felt his mother's gentle hands on his elbows, pulling him up, and he begrudgingly obliged, allowing her to push him towards his room.

"You've been through a lot today," Dís said. "Fíli will come back. You rest."

"I'm not a child," said Kíli, pulling away from her grip.

"Then stop acting like one and use some sense," said Thorin. The words were sharp, but his voice was kind; Kíli ducked his head, still feeling the sting of the rebuke.

"All right, fine," he said, trudging off to his room alone. He shut himself in and dropped face-first onto the bed with a sigh, feeling miserable; after a few minutes, he felt himself dozing off and pulled himself further onto the bed and under the covers. He hadn't wanted to admit it to his mother and his uncle, but he still felt exhausted and short of breath, and it frightened him. He did  _not_  like feeling like this - ever. He had had quite enough of it for anyone's lifetime.

Kíli rolled onto his side and pulled his covers up to his chin, staring at the empty space next to him sadly. Surely Fíli was not so angry that he would sleep elsewhere - surely he would be back son. Fíli always forgave him. Always.

* * *

Morning came to Kíli and Fíli's bedroom with bright sun, birdsong, and a distinct lack of one blond dwarf.

Kíli could feel Fíli's absence before he even opened his eyes. The only breathing he heard was his own - thankfully back to normal - and he was definitely stretched into Fíli's space, but he was not touching anyone. He opened his eyes sleepily and looked around, confirming what he already knew - Fíli had not returned.

With a sigh, Kíli whipped off his covers and slid lazily out of bed. He stretched and yawned, and then stumbled out into the kitchen. He looked around; no one was there. Dís and Thorin were already out working for the day, then - apparently they had decided to let him sleep in.

Perhaps Fíli had already come and gone. Kíli comforted himself with this thought as he pulled together some breakfast and ate quietly. Perhaps he was out checking the traps.

After his meal, Kíli geared up for his trek and set off to where he and Fíli had set traps the day before. He found two rabbits, but no Fíli. Disheartened and slightly concerned, Kíli returned home in the late afternoon with his rabbits and found Dís in the kitchen. He handed her his catch, which she received happily as he placed a kiss on her forehead.

"Fíli been home?" he asked.

"I haven't seen him today," she replied.

Kíli knew that he really should not have been worried, but something in his gut kept telling him that something was wrong. He had to find his brother.

"I'm going to ask around," he said, peering into his and Fíli's room. No Fíli. "I'll be back."

"Wait," said Dís, catching his wrist; he turned to face her again. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better," said Kíli honestly. Dís searched his eyes and then nodded, satisfied.

"Don't worry too much, Kíli," she called as he headed for the door. "Fíli can take care of himself."

"I know," Kíli said, but at the moment, he was not sure he believed it.

* * *

"Nowhere," said Kíli, his head in his hands. "He's nowhere."

"He's got to be  _somewhere_ , Kíli," said Dís. "I'm sure he is fine. Here, let me make you a cup of tea."

"I don't  _want_  tea," Kíli grumbled as Dís put water on. "Something is wrong, Mum. I can feel it."

"Where did you search?" she said. Kíli could hear the exasperation in her voice, but he didn't care.

"I checked the traps, I checked the square, the woods, even the creek," Kíli said. "I've asked Balin and Dwalin, Glóin, Gimli, Óin, Dori, Bofur - I even asked Bifur. No one has seen him since yesterday."

The door opened then, and Kíli looked up hopefully, desperate to see his brother's golden hair and swinging braids. Instead, he saw the dark mane of his uncle, and he dropped his head onto the table.

"Evening," said Thorin, perplexed by his nephew's behavior. "Everything all right?"

"Kíli's been looking for Fíli all day," said Dís. "He reckons something has happened to him."

"Why would he stay away this long?" Kíli said, lifting his head. "He couldn't have been  _that_  angry. He's never that angry." Kíli met Thorin's eyes and thought he saw a glint of worry there; he seized upon it desperately.

"Let's go search for him, Uncle," he said. "Let's go find him."

"He's only been gone for a day, Kíli," said Thorin. "We'll go search for him, and then he will come home and wonder why we made such a fuss."

"What if he's broken something and can't get home?" Kíli cried. "What if he's - he's gotten hurt, or attacked by orcs, or he's unconscious somewhere-"

"Kíli, calm down," said Thorin. "You know your brother. You know he knows how to fight and survive."

"He's not invincible," Kíli said, giving Thorin a challenging glare.

"Watch your tone, boy," Thorin warned.

Kíli looked down at his hands. "Sorry, Uncle."

"If he isn't back by morning, we'll go out and search, all right?" said Thorin. "I promise."

Kíli didn't  _want_  to wait until morning. He wanted to search  _now_  - but he knew that Thorin would not agree to a search in the dark.  _Fruitless,_  he would say. Not to mention that apparently Kíli was the only one who could sense that something was wrong.

"All right," he said. "In the morning."

"If he has not already returned," Thorin said.

Kíli nodded, but he felt that Fíli would not be back any time soon.

* * *

It was after midnight, and still Fíli had not returned.

Kíli lay in bed alone, his body still, but his mind racing. Horrible images ran through his mind - Fíli bleeding, dying, falling from cliffs, being buried by rocks... a shudder went up his spine. He wasn't dead, at least. Kíli was not sure how he  _knew_  - but he did. That knowledge, however, did nothing to calm his fears.

 _What would Fíli do?_  Kíli asked himself. If he had gone missing, how long would Fíli wait to search for him?

The answer was surprisingly easy.  _He'd go right now._  Kíli whipped off the covers and dressed quickly but silently. Thorin would not go with him - not at this hour. He would see it as foolish, but Kíli did not care. Fíli's life was more important than avoiding his uncle's ire.

If Fíli  _was_  hurt, Kíli would need someone with him to help carry - and ponies. They could cover more ground with ponies. But who could he ask? Not Balin or Dwalin - they were fiercely loyal to their king. Getting them involved would only see him being brought back home with stern glances and sharp reprimands. Óin was too much of an old codger to go on such a "fool's errand", and Glóin was almost as loyal to Thorin as Balin and Dwalin, if not just as much.

 _Gimli!_  Kíli seized upon the thought of his younger cousin. They were close, and Kíli knew that if he explained his worries to the adventurous dwarf, he would join him in a heartbeat. But how to get Gimli without waking Glóin? He would have to call him from his window.

As quietly as he could manage, Kíli tiptoed out of his room and into the dark kitchen. Even the fire was out - good. Everyone was asleep. He took down his sword and his bow -  _just in case,_  he told himself - and made it out of the house successfully.

Now for the ponies. Kíli crept behind the house to their small stable and saddled up his pony. He considered taking Fíli's, too - but that would only slow him down. If Fíli needed to ride, Kíli would walk.

"Come on, Basil. Quietly," he whispered to his pony. She followed him obediently until they stopped at Glóin's home, where he pulled a treat from his pocket and held it up to Basil's mouth. She took it happily, and Kíli stroked her mane.

"Stay here, girl," he whispered. "I'll be right back."

Basil stayed put, and Kíli crept up to Gimli's window, as he had many times before. The only dwarf who could cause more trouble than Fíli and Kíli was Gimli - when he was with his two older cousins. Kíli was sure that Glóin did not appreciate the two princes' influence on his only son, but Gimli had little regard for any opinion, save his own.

Kíli tapped on the glass of Gimli's window, squinting as he peered inside. It was dark - clearly, Gimli was asleep.

 _Tap-tap tap-tap-tap tap-tap._  It was their code. If the blasted dwarf would wake up, he would know it was Kíli. He tried again.  _Tap-tap tap-tap-tap tap-tap._

Several moments later, Gimli's tired face appeared in the window. He opened it quickly, and Kíli jumped out of the way before it hit him in the face.

"What?" Gimli growled.

"Come outside. Bring your axe. I need your help," Kíli said.

"Where are we going?" Gimli said, and Kíli grinned. Of course Gimli would come with him. He always did.

"Fíli's still not back," he said. "I think something has happened to him. We're going to go search."

Gimli studied Kíli's face for a moment; then, he nodded seriously.

"I'll meet you out back," he said, disappearing into the inky darkness of his room.

"Bring your pony!" Kíli called, and then he ran to retrieve Basil.

Gimli appeared quickly with his own pony and his axe strapped onto his back. The cousins nodded in greeting, and Kíli mounted Basil as Gimli hopped on his own pony.

"Where to?" Gimli said.

"I already searched the woods," said Kíli. "Let's start up at the base of the mountain... there are caves for shelter there. Maybe he's that way."

"And if he isn't?" said Gimli.

Kíli set his mouth into a grim line.

"We keep looking."

* * *

Hours and hours had gone by, and still Kíli and Gimli had found no sign of their missing kin. They had finally decided to split up and search, reasoning that they could cover more ground that way, though they both kept their weapons at the ready. If someone - or something - had the strength or skill to take out Fíli, it would certainly be a worthy opponent for either dwarf.

Kíli looked towards the east, worriedly observing the growing light in the sky. Thorin and Dís would be waking soon to find not just one, but two missing young dwarves, and Kíli cringed to think of the verbal lashing he would receive.

 _No,_  Kíli told himself.  _Focus. Fíli is more important._

"Gimli!" he called.

"What?" came his younger cousin's gruff voice from behind him.

"Anything?"

"Nothing. We'll find him, Kíli."

"If he's even around here," Kíli muttered. He was beginning to seriously doubt himself now. What if Fíli had come home during the night, and Kíli was worried for nothing?

 _But what if he didn't?_  his mind said. In his heart, he could still feel that something was not right; it was a feeling that was too strong to ignore. He tromped off further towards the north.

"There are a few more caves this way," Kíli called. "Let's check those - but I don't think he would go much further than that."

"Aye, it's further than I've gone," said Gimli, catching up with his older cousin.

They banded back together and searched further north, taking the caves one at a time, each with his own torch. After three more caves with no luck, Kíli was ready to give up. The morning sun shone into the cracks and crevices of the rocks and cliffs, rendering their torches unnecessary, and they got rid of them with heavy hearts.

"Maybe he's already home," Gimli said hopefully as they both mounted their ponies.

"If he is, I'll kill him," Kíli joked, though his own humor was lost on him. His stomach churned with disquiet. He turned and looked behind, hoping that he had not somehow missed his brother and doomed him to suffer alone. Perhaps when he went out again with Thorin...

A cave further up caught his eye then - one that he couldn't recall seeing before. A small stream of water trickled from it, and Kíli narrowed his eyes. Without a word, he turned Basil and kicked galloping off towards one more unexplored cave.

"Kíli!" called Gimli, but he ignored him, pressing onward. A sick feeling was rising in his stomach, and he felt certain that this one, this cave, held some answer for him.

Kíli dismounted and peered into the cave warily. The mouth was wide and low, and Kíli could hear the rushing of stronger waters inside that clearly supplied this little stream. He stepped in and looked about, letting his eyes adjust to the lesser light and drawing his sword. Wolves, wargs, goblins, bandits - he was ready. Someone was here - he could feel eyes on him.

"Fíli?" he called, searching left and right. "Fíli, are you here? Are you hurt?"

The only answer he got was his own echo. He gripped his sword tighter and took a few more steps. The feeling of being watched was stronger now, and he wished that he had not left Gimli so far behind. He needed someone to watch his back.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Kíli could see that the cave was wide, but relatively shallow, with no twists or turns to be found. It almost looked to be carved by hands, it was so perfectly circular; the only indication of the rushing water he heard was a small waterfall near the back, its source too small to allow a dwarf through. No chance of Fíli there, then.  _There must be a river running through the mountain,_  Kíli thought. Boulders were peppered throughout the cave, and the floor was uneven; Kíli tripped once, even as he tried to watch his step.

"Fíli?" he called again, but there was no answer. He sighed and twirled his sword impatiently, feeling the hair on the back of his neck rising as he stepped further inside. There was someone - some _thing_  - here. He was sure of it; whatever it was, he could not see it, and it made him nervous. He wanted to get out as quickly as possible. Swiftly, he swept through the cave, but no Fíli. Exasperated and beyond worried, Kíli dropped his sword tip-down into the stone and cursed.

Then something caught his eye.

Kíli turned his sword carefully, watching the bar of light reflected by the morning sun bounce off the walls of the cave. Everywhere it was a white, wet light - but then Kíli saw it again. A flash of gold. He wiggled the blade, and the gold flash remained, hidden behind a boulder. Kíli sidestepped, picking up his sword and holding it at the ready.  _Please don't be dead,_  he thought.  _Please be okay. If that's you, Fíli, please don't be dead._

Kíli took a deep breath and stepped closer to the flash of gold, hoping that the unmoving glint of light was  _not_  his big brother - that Fíli was home safe and sound, drinking ale or smoking his pipe; that Kíli would come home and Fíli would laugh at him for being so worried. Maybe even call him a fool. Kíli would gladly take the teasing as long as his big brother - his Fíli - was alive.

As the mysterious golden light came into view, Kíli held his breath, fearing the worst but desperate for the best. He closed his eyes tight and took a final step forward; then, he opened his eyes.

A low moan escaped Kíli's lips, and he was vaguely aware of the sound of his sword hitting the ground as he ran forward and crashed to his knees beside the motionless figure. His worst prediction had come true - for the still body beside him was none other than Fíli.


	3. NIghtmares

"Fíli!" Kíli cried, shaking his brother's shoulders. "Fíli, wake up!"

No response came from the blond dwarf, and Kíli moaned in horror. He put a hand on Fíli's cheek, and all the blood drained from his face.

He was ice cold.

"No," Kíli whispered, shaking his head as his heart pounded even harder. "No, no, no, no no no no no  _no_ …"

He slapped his brother's cheek gently.  _Wake up, Fíli. You have to wake up. You can't be dead._  When no response came, Kíli bit back a wail and sucked in a deep breath; he laid two trembling fingers on Fíli's jugular and closed his eyes, desperate to feel a pulse. A relieved, manic laugh left him as he felt a steady  _thump-thump_ , and he leaned down and rested his cheek on Fíli's chest, listening to the strong heartbeat.

"Oh, Mahal," he whispered. He did not move for a while, willing his own heartbeat to come back to normal as relief washed over him. Fíli was alive. He was unconscious, but he was alive. Then he came back to the present and realized that he needed to  _do something_. He rose to his feet and dashed to the mouth of the cave.

"Gimli!" he shouted. "Gimli, come quickly!"

Gimli was already halfway there, but he seemed to have been taking his time to get to the cave. Kíli could understand his hesitation; they had been searching for hours, and the further north they went, the further south they'd have to go to get back home. They were already at least an hour, if not two, from the village. When he saw Kíli waving, however, the younger dwarf quickly made his way to the cave and dismounted.

"Did you find him?" he said.

"Yes, but he won't wake," said Kíli, his voice cracking. "He's ice cold. Let's carry him out into the sun."

Gimli nodded and followed Kíli inside to where Fíli lay motionless. They both knelt beside the blonde's still frame; Kíli shook his brother once more, but Fíli still remained unresponsive.

"What's wrong with him?" said Gimli.

"I don't know," said Kíli. He quickly checked him over for wounds or broken bones. "Nothing is broken… no injuries that I can see. Come, let's get him into the light."

Kíli and Gimli lifted Fíli between them and carried their kin into the morning sun; they laid him in the damp grass and looked him over once more.

"He's so cold," Gimli remarked. "Hypothermia?"

"Maybe," said Kíli. "But his breathing and heartbeat are too strong. If he were freezing to death, he would have been dead by now, wouldn't he?"

"Let's get him home," said Gimli. "I'll get my uncle. Maybe he'll know."

"Right," said Kíli, and the two dwarves lifted Fíli onto Basil. Gimli held him in place as Kíli ran back for his forgotten sword; then, Kíli took his cousin's place at Fíli's side, and Gimli mounted his own pony. They began the long trek home with hearts full of trepidation; not once did Fíli stir.

* * *

" _Thorin!_ " Kíli cried from outside his home. "Uncle! Come quickly!"

Thorin came outside moments later, his expression crossed with a fury that melted the moment he saw his elder nephew doubled over on Kíli's pony. He rushed to Fíli's side and gripped his face, lifting his head to search for signs of life.

"What happened?" said Thorin brusquely.

"I don't know," said Kíli. "I found him unconscious in a cave up north."

"Is that where you and Gimli snuck off to?" said Thorin. "Glóin came by this morning, and he was livid. Where  _is_  Gimli?"

"He's getting Óin."

"Well, let's get your brother inside," Thorin said. "Help me carry him."

They brought Fíli in together and laid him in bed; Thorin checked his pulse and his breathing. Finding nothing amiss, he laid a hand on Fíli's forehead.

"He doesn't have a fever," he mused.

"He was ice cold when I found him," Kíli said. "Gimli thought it might be hypothermia, but – aside from how cold he was, there was no sign of it."

"Hm," said Thorin, looking his elder nephew over worriedly; he brushed a stray hair off Fíli's face. Kíli and Thorin sat in silence for a moment, both wrapped up in their own thoughts.

"I  _knew_  something was wrong," said Kíli quietly. "I could feel it… no one believed me."

Thorin looked up at Kíli then, a look in his blue eyes that the young dwarf did not recognize.

"Kíli—"

"I'm here! I'm back," called Gimli from the kitchen, startling the king and the younger prince. "I've brought Uncle."

"Óin," Thorin called. "Thank you for coming."

"Of course," said Óin. "Let me see him."

Kíli stood in the corner of the room and chewed anxiously on his thumbnail as Óin examined his brother. After checking his heart, his breathing, and various other things, Óin sighed and shook his head.

"Take off his shirt," said Óin, and Gimli and Thorin quickly stripped Fíli of his tunic. Óin checked him over and shook his head again.

"I cannot see any cause for unconsciousness," he said. "He is perfectly healthy. He just isn't awake."

"Will he, though?" said Kíli. "Wake up, I mean."

"I don't know, lad," said Óin. "I don't know why he is unconscious. We will just have to watch him and hope he wakes."

"Could you try smelling salts?" Thorin suggested.

"Oh! Yes," said Óin, and he retrieved them from his bag. Kíli held his breath as the old apothecary passed them under Fíli's nose, but still he did not stir. Kíli let out a soft moan and slid to the floor, taking his head in his hands.

"I  _knew_  something was wrong, I  _knew_  it, I knew it, I knew it," he moaned. "Why did no one listen to me?" He looked up at Thorin pleadingly. " _Why didn't you listen to me?_ "

"Kíli, I didn't know—"

"You didn't know!  _You_  didn't!  _I_  did!" Kíli shouted. "You said he would be fine! Look at him!" He threw his hand forward towards his brother. "He is  _not_ fine!"

"Calm down, lad," Thorin said. "I had no reason to believe—"

"You had  _me_!" Kíli exploded. He felt tears well up in his eyes and did not hold them back. "But you didn't listen! You  _never_  listen!"

"Enough," said Thorin sharply, and Kíli bowed his head, gripping his hair tightly and breathing hard. The room was silent for several long moments as Kíli fought to regain his composure. A hand touched his shoulder, and he jumped and looked up into Gimli's concerned eyes.

"You all right, Kíli?" he said.

Kíli sniffed and nodded vacantly. "I'll be fine," he said with a wavering voice. Gimli smiled sadly, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and patted his cousin's shoulder. Kíli looked beyond the ruddy young dwarf to Thorin and Óin.

"Is there anything that can be done?" he said.

"We wait," said Óin.

* * *

Kíli sat alone in his and Fíli's room, cross-legged on the bed next to his unconscious brother. He still had not so much as stirred in the hours since Kíli and Gimli had brought him home, and Kíli's heart was continually in his throat. With no clue as to what was wrong, he had no clue when – or if – his brother would wake up.

Kíli undid the braids in Fíli's hair and ran his fingers through the waves, untangling the snarls that always found their way into his brother's long, golden hair. He began to re-braid the loose hair, taking care to make the braids straight and clean.

"You always want to look nice," Kíli murmured. "Even in your sleep…"

It was true. Fíli would take out his braids and re-do them before bed, only to take them out again in the morning and repeat the routine. Kíli had never understood it, but it was so characteristically  _Fíli_  that doing it made him feel some sort of normalcy. He finished the four braids and sighed, dropping his hands into his lap forlornly and staring at his brother.

"Wake up," he whispered. "Please, Fee."

Suddenly, Fíli inhaled sharply and furrowed his brow; Kíli's eyes widened as hope and excitement blossomed in his chest.

"Fíli?" he called softly, laying a hand on the covers over his brother's chest and shaking him gently. "Wake up, brother."

Fíli whimpered, but his eyes did not open; Kíli shook him again.

"What's the matter, Fíli?" he said. "Wake up."

Instead, Fíli let out a bloodcurdling scream.

Kíli jumped back, heart pounding, as Fíli lashed out, his arms still pinned under the covers. He let out another scream and thrashed violently, and Kíli reached out to grab his arms.

"Fíli!" he said frantically. "Calm down! It's all right! Wake up!"

Fíli let out a moan and yanked at his brother's grip, but Kíli held him tight. Thorin ran into the room with wide eyes, freezing at the sight before him.

"Uncle,  _help_!" Kíli cried. "He won't wake!"

Thorin came to the bedside and tried to take hold of Fíli's face, but the blond dwarf was tossing his head back and forth as he writhed on the bed. He curled suddenly into a ball, pulling his arms protectively over his head despite Kíli's grip and let out an agonized wail. Kíli let go, horrified, and looked up at Thorin, who was hesitantly reaching out to his older nephew as he curled into a tighter and tighter ball, his wailing still not ceasing. As Thorin touched his face, he jerked back and screamed again. Quickly, Thorin withdrew his hands, stricken.

"What do we do?" said Kíli.

"Try to wake him again," Thorin said. "Keep trying."

Kíli nodded and shook Fíli's shoulder, sending him only further into hysterics, but Kíli only shook him again.

"Fíli! It's all right!" he shouted. "Wake up!"

"Kíli, his hands," Thorin said.

"What about—oh, Fee," Kíli said, horrified. Blood beaded up from Fíli's palms where he had dug in with his fingernails; Kíli grabbed his hands, struggling to keep his hold as his brother jerked away from him, and fought to pry his hands open. Fíli let out a hoarse wail and shook his head violently, kicking his legs. Thorin leaned on them before Fíli could do any more damage.

"Give me one of his hands," Thorin shouted over Fíli's wails. Kíli pulled one of Fíli's arms towards his uncle and worked on pulling his brother's fingernails out of the palm of his other hand. He was finally successful, and he held the screaming dwarf's hand tightly. Fíli squeezed back, and a trickle of blood ran down Kíli's arm. Thorin passed Fíli's other open hand to Kíli, who took it and locked his elbows over Fíli's to keep his arms in place.

"Brother, please, wake up," Kíli cried as Fíli fought to escape his grip. "It's all right, Fee. Wake up. Come on. Please."

The only response from Fíli was panicked gasping as he struggled violently to escape. Blood began to trickle down Kíli's other arm. He leaned forward, putting his weight on his brother's heaving chest, and pressed his forehead into his shoulder.

"It's okay," he said hoarsely. "It's okay – it's all right – you're safe now. You're safe, Fee. It's  _all right_."

Fíli still struggled, but he was pinned underneath his brother and his uncle now and could not harm himself. For long minutes, Kíli continued to speak comforting words through his brother's screams and wails, tears flowing from his own eyes as the unconscious dwarf jerked beneath him and never woke. After what felt like an eternity, something broke, and Fíli finally stopped struggling. Silence fell as the air became void of Fíli's unconscious screams, and in the vacuum of sound only the harsh breathing of the three dwarves could be heard.

Hesitantly, Kíli lifted himself off his brother and peered into his face. Tear tracks crossed his cheeks and the sides of his face, but his expression was once again placid. His hair was everywhere, bits of it stuck to his wet cheeks. One of the braids Kíli had just put in had come undone. Kíli held Fíli's hands with one hand and used the other to brush away the stray hairs; he cringed when he left a smudge of blood on his brother's cheek. Fíli was still – as still has he had been when Kíli had found him cold in the cave.

"What… in Durin's name… was  _that_?" said Thorin. Kíli had never heard his uncle so afraid.


	4. Confusion

The sound of the front door flying open and quick footsteps startled Kíli out of his reverie, and he cringed. He knew those footsteps; Dís was home.

"Thorin, where is he? Where is my son?" she shouted the moment she was inside.

"How did you—"

"I spoke to Gimli on the road. Why didn't you come for me?"

"Dís, he isn't just unconscious, he's—"

"Where  _is_  he, brother? In his room?"

"Yes, but Dís, listen—"

The bedroom door opened suddenly, and Dís ran to the bedside and sat down beside her eldest, placing a hand on his brow. She looked up at Kíli with shining eyes.

"How long as he been unconscious?" she said.

"I don't know, Mum – I found him like this," said Kíli. "We can't wake him for anything."

Dís closed her eyes and pursed her lips, taking in a deep breath. She opened her eyes again and stroked Fíli's brow; he did not stir.

She leaned down next to his ear. "Fíli, wake up," she whispered. When Fíli did not respond, she kissed his forehead and whispered to him again.

"What's wrong with him?" she said.

"We don't know. Óin didn't even know."

Dís glanced up at Kíli, her brow furrowed. "Not even Óin could figure it out?"

Kíli shook his head. "There's… something else, too, Mum," he said. "Gimli didn't see, but he's – there's something going on with him."

"Well, he's unconscious," Dís said pointedly.

"No, in – in his head. In his mind," said Kíli. Dís stared at him, her expression blank in complete bewilderment. Kíli swallowed and looked away from her piercing blue eyes.

"He keeps screaming. Like he's in a nightmare, and he can't wake up. He won't wake up. He – he just screams and screams, and I – we can't get him to stop."

"He's not screaming now."

"Well, he'll stop on his own, but nothing we do seems to help." Kíli felt his throat thicken as tears stung the corners of his eyes. "I don't know what to do. He's done it four times now."

Dís looked down at her eldest son and stroked his cheek gently.

"Oh, my child," she whispered.

As if on cue, Fíli inhaled sharply, and Kíli's heart stopped.

"Oh, no," he moaned, reaching for his brother's hands and holding them tightly. Instantly, Fíli squeezed back, and Kíli closed his eyes and held his breath, waiting for the screams.

"What's happening?" said Dís.

"Lean on his legs," Kíli said.

"What?"

"Mum, trust me," said Kíli, nodding at Fíli's legs as he fought to keep his brother's hands in his own. As she leaned forward and took her son's legs, he let out a hoarse scream that rattled the window and began to jerk violently. Kíli leaned all his weight on Fíli's upper body, keeping his head far away from his brother's. He had learned earlier that Fíli's head made a painful weapon, and he had the lump to prove it.

"Fíli, calm down!" Dís shouted over her eldest son's howling.

"It's no use," said Kíli. "You just have to hold him so he doesn't hurt himself."

Dís nodded, wide-eyed, and held Fíli's legs as still as she could. Thorin flew into the room and was instantly on the bed, his hands on either side of Fíli's face as he attempted to stop the thrashing dwarf from hitting his head on anything or anyone. Kíli could feel his brother trying to curl up beneath him, but he stayed in place, fighting tears as Fíli screamed and fought with the three dwarves holding him down.

"Shouldn't we just leave him be instead of holding him down like this?" said Dís.

"No!" Thorin and Kíli shouted together. They had tried that; not only had Fíli pushed his fingernails so hard into his bandages that he had re-opened the wounds on his palms, but he had rolled so close to the edge of the bed that he had almost fallen off. Thorin and Kíli had learned after that to keep him in one place.

The struggled lasted a few minutes, and then finally Fíli was still. The three lifted themselves off him hesitantly, hoping for some change, but still Fíli remained unconscious. Kíli stared at his brother, holding back a sob that fought to escape him; he heard a sniffle and a whimper behind him, and then saw Dís running out of the room from the corner of his eye. Thorin's worried gaze followed her, and then he jumped to his feet and chased after his little sister.

"Dís? Dís!" he called, and then he was gone; Kíli remained with his brother.

He may have been in a room with Fíli, but he felt completely and utterly alone.

* * *

A harrowing night turned into a grey, gloomy morning, and no one in the house had gotten any sleep – unless Fíli's horror-ridden state counted. Kíli was sure that it didn't.

The day seemed to fly by, even though little changed. Óin came by to check on Fíli, but he left as clueless as he had come, promising to stop by the next day with some concoction he was dreaming up. Besides the apothecary, they had no visitors; by midday, rain was falling steadily, and it was the only sound save for Fíli's screams.

The only mercy was that as the day drew on, Fíli's episodes became less frequent, and the other inhabitants of the house managed to get some sleep towards the evening; Kíli would not leave his brother alone, however, insisting on sleeping near him to keep him safe. Indeed, had he not been there, Fíli surely would have hurt himself several times through the evening and the night. By morning, the nightmares seemed to have stopped completely. Kíli would have rejoiced, but still Fíli would not wake, and his hope was failing. Maybe his brother would never wake – it was a thought that Kíli could not bear, but try as he might, he could not get it to leave his mind: Fíli wasting away, dying of thirst or hunger or whatever was keeping him deeply unconscious, and Kíli could not do a thing but just watch.

_This is all my fault._

The thought assaulted him suddenly and pierced his heart, leaving him gasping with watery eyes. If only he had not gone off on his own. If only he had not been so  _childish_. Searching for pixies? Fíli was right. He had been such a child.

 _But there_ was _a pixie,_  he thought.  _Something_  had spoken to him.  _Something_  had pushed him into the water.  _Something_  had—

A sudden movement from Fíli pulled Kíli from his thoughts, and he sat up straight, hope and dread coursing through him simultaneously. As Fíli began to curl into a ball, dread won out, and Kíli reached for Fíli's hands.

"Uncle! Mum!" he shouted, hoping one of them was within hearing distance. A scream escaped Fíli's lips, and Kíli held on tight as he began to thrash.

"Uncle! Mum! Help!" he cried, but no one seemed to hear; Kíli was alone. Thorin and Dís should have stayed near, but it was too late for should-haves. He had to keep his brother from hurting himself. He leaned over Fíli's torso and gritted his teeth as another scream was ripped from his brother's throat, so loud that Kíli thought the Blue Mountains would shake; Kíli jerked his head back as Fíli suddenly turned, just missing being whipped by a braid. He looked down at his brother, deeply grieved, and then let out a sharp gasp.

Fíli's eyes were open.

"Fíli?" Kíli breathed, and then Fíli threw him off the bed.

Kíli stumbled and hit the wall, grunting as air flew out of his lungs and left him breathless. Fíli dove out of the bed towards his brother, fists clenched, but Kíli recovered quickly and caught them before they made contact.

"It's all right, Fíli! It's me! It's Kíli!" he cried as the blond dwarf fought to get his hands back. Fíli did not relent, however. He brought his knee up to Kíli's crotch –  _hard_. Kíli gasped and dropped to his knees as a wave of extreme nausea washed over him – he couldn't move; he couldn't breathe. Fíli took advantage of his paralysis with a punch to the side of the head, and Kíli fell on his side, still unable to move as stars danced before his eyes.

"F-Fee, it's – it's me," he gasped, holding his arms protectively over his face. "S-stop, please. Please."

As Fíli pulled his foot back to kick, two arms wrapped around him and locked behind his head, pulling him away before his foot could make contact with Kíli's ribcage. Kíli rolled away, facing the wall and gasping harshly as he tried to regain the ability to move.

"Let go!" Fíli growled behind him.

"Calm down, Fíli!" said Dís. "Stop fighting!"

A grunt was all that Kíli heard from his brother, but apparently Dís had a good grip on him, because he did not rush forward again. A hand touched Kíli's shoulder.

"Are you all right?" said Thorin in a low voice.

Kíli shook his head and let out a strained groan as he curled into a ball; Thorin's grip on his shoulder tightened.

"What's wrong?" he said.

"Kneed… me," Kíli gasped. "Punched me, too." He groaned again as his insides tightened in pain, and Thorin slipped an arm underneath him to pull him upright. He eased his nephew up slowly until he was sitting on the floor; Kíli turned to see his brother, who seemed to have surrendered to Dís, though he didn't look happy about it. Their mother still held Fíli tightly with his arms behind his back, her mouth set in a grim line.

"F-Fíli?" Kíli said cautiously, watching his brother's face, but there was no flicker of recognition in his eyes. Kíli swallowed.

"Fíli, do you recognize us?" Thorin said.

Fíli glared at Thorin with such ferocity that Kíli gasped, and Thorin's grip on Kíli's arm tightened. Fíli pulled at Dís's grip, but she was strong, and still he could not escape.

"Let me  _go_ ," said Fíli, attempting to turn but unable to move his mother. Suddenly he hissed and started, his head turning to the side as he attempted to look behind.

"Ach, that  _hurts_."

"Then calm down and sit," said Dís firmly. "You've been unconscious for – for who knows how long. You shouldn't be fighting. Look what you've done to your brother!"

"My  _what_?" said Fíli, his eyes turning their icy gaze onto Kíli. All the blood drained from Kíli's face and his heart thumped hard at those words. He turned his questioning gaze to Thorin; his uncle was eyeing Fíli curiously with a strange look in his eye.

"He doesn't recognize us," he said.

"Of course I don't!" Fíli spat. "I've never met you in my life. Now let me go!"

"Fee—" Kíli started, but a quick squeeze on his arm silenced him as Thorin studied his elder nephew, his face unreadable.

"If she lets you go, are you going to attack us?" he said.

A disgusted growl sounded from Fíli's throat, but he shook his head.

"Do I have your word?"

"You have my word," said Fíli through gritted teeth.

Thorin nodded. "Dís, let him go."

Dís released her grip, and Fíli ripped himself away from her with a wrathful glare. He turned and regarded Thorin and Kíli, who were still on the floor; Kíli could tell from the look in his eye that he was sizing them up – seeing which one of them was the bigger threat. His gaze settled on Thorin, and he narrowed his eyes.

"Can you stand?" Thorin murmured to Kíli.

"N-not quite yet," Kíli replied. He still felt sick, pain throbbing between his legs and coursing through his stomach and his thighs. Thorin helped him lean against the wall and stood to his feet.

"You have committed assault against another dwarf, Fíli," he said.

"Uncle!" Kíli exclaimed; at the same time, he heard his mother cry out, "Thorin!"

"Quiet," Thorin commanded. Kíli knew better than to interrupt, and he clamped his jaw shut. "This is a crime punishable by jail time, the length of which will be determined by myself and my advisors as your king. As you have proven yourself untrustworthy, you will remain here until an escort can be arranged. Any attempt to escape will be met with a greater sentence. Am I understood?"

"Uncle, you can't—" Kíli started, but Thorin silenced him with a wave of his hand.

"Am I understood?" he repeated.

Fíli nodded stiffly, his fists clenching and unclenching as he seethed. Kíli looked back and forth between Thorin and Fíli, his eyes wide. What was Thorin _thinking_? Fíli hadn't  _assaulted_  him. He had clearly been in the grip of whatever horrors were in his dreams – Fíli would  _never_  hurt him. Not on purpose.

But he  _had_  said that he didn't recognize them… Kíli's gaze flicked back to Fíli, and he searched his brother's eyes for any sign of recognition. Once again, he found none. Fíli's icy blue eyes turned to Kíli, and the younger dwarf looked down, his insides churning—from the knee to his crotch or his brother's behavior, he could not tell. Suddenly Thorin was kneeling before him, his expression drawn.

"Come, Kíli," he said. "To the kitchen." He reached out and helped his nephew stand, and then led him to the door. As they passed through the doorway, Thorin stopped and turned back to Fíli.

"Do  _not_  attempt anything."

With that, Thorin pulled Kíli out of the room, and Dís followed after them, her expression heated with enough fury to melt silver. She slammed the door behind her and immediately began to shout.

" _Jail time?_  Thorin, what in Durin's name is wrong with you? He didn't assault Kíli! He didn't know what he was doing!"

"I know what this looks like to you, sister, but I know what I am doing," said Thorin as he eased Kíli into a chair at the table. "I have to go. Now. Make sure he doesn't escape from that room."

"You can't throw  _my son_  in jail, Thorin!" Dís bellowed. "He is your heir! Listen to me!" She dashed forward and seized Thorin's arm, pulling him away from the front door.

"Dís, we will discuss this later. I have to go," Thorin said.

"Thorin, if our people see your heir in jail…"

"I know, Dís," Thorin snapped. "I said we will discuss this later."

"Where are you going?" she demanded.

"Your son does not recognize his closest kin. I thought this would be a good time to get some help," he said, wrenching his arm out of his sister's grip. Dís nodded, suddenly understanding, and took a step back.

"Make sure he stays put," Thorin ordered, and then he was gone.

* * *

"We have a grave situation on our hands," said Thorin, looking at each of the dwarves at the table in turn – Kíli, Dís, Óin, Glóin, Balin, and Dwalin. All had on concerned, attentive faces, save for Dís, who seemed ready to explode in her wrath. Her foot tapped on the floor impatiently, and her fingertips drummed on the table as she glared at her older brother. When Thorin had said he was going for help, she had not expected four dwarves to accompany her brother back to the house.

"Ye still haven't told us why we're here," said Dwalin, leaning in towards his cousin.

"Aye, and where's Fíli?" added Balin.

Thorin glanced at Óin before he spoke.

"Before we discuss this matter, I need all of you to swear that this conversation does not leave this house."

The dwarves exchanged glances with each other before a chorus of "aye"s arose from around the table.

"Good," Thorin said; he leaned forward and rested his arms on the table. "As you all know, Fíli walked out on us the other day after the incident with Kíli. Well, he didn't come back. Not on his own. Kíli and Gimli found him in a cave up north."

"Is he all right?" said Balin.

Thorin surveyed the dwarves before him before responding.

"No, he isn't," he said.

Kíli sank down low in his chair and looked at the table, his stomach twisting as it struck him harshly – Fíli was  _not_  all right. He was very, very not all right. He might never be all right again. That thought struck him painfully, and he cringed, squeezing his eyes shut.  _No_ , he told himself.  _He'll get better. He has to._

"Well, what's wrong with him?" Balin prompted.

"He still hasn't awakened?" said Óin.

"No, he has," said Kíli. "But… just today. And he – he doesn't recognize us."

"What do you mean?" said Dwalin, his furry eyebrows drawn together.

"He attacked Kíli," said Thorin. "Said he'd never seen us before in his life."

"Fíli would never attack Kíli," said Glóin in a hushed tone.

"Aye, but he did," said Thorin. "I've charged him with assault on a fellow dwarf—"

"A terrible idea!" Dís exclaimed amidst outcries of shock from her fellow dwarves. "What happens when someone sees him locked up? The heir of Thorin Oakenshield jailed for actions that were out of his control! How will people trust him as next in line to the throne of Erebor – granted we can reclaim it – if he is seen as a  _criminal_?"

"He is in no position to be my heir at all if he remains the way he is," Thorin snapped.

Silence fell over the table as Thorin's words sank in. Kíli's eyes widened as he realized the full extent of the situation—Fíli, disinherited, leaving  _him_  as next in line. Kíli, the heir to the throne of Erebor. No – that wasn't his place. The throne was for Fíli, not him. He was meant to be the advisor to his brother, always at his side; he was not meant to be the one who tookover after Thorin passed. He didn't  _want_  the throne – Fíli was much better suited for such a thing than him. He shook his head and looked up at his uncle with pleading eyes.

"There must be something else we can do," he said.

Thorin nodded gravely. "Aye," he said. "That is why I have called you all here. You are my closest kin; I trust you above all others. I have a plan." He met Kíli's eyes with a meaningful look.

"Do tell," said Dís bitingly.

"First of all, we wait," Thorin continued, ignoring his sister's retort. "Óin, is there anything you know of that could help?"

"With amnesia? Only time," said Óin with a shake of his head.

"We can't sit around and wait for him to snap out of it," said Dís. "He's too violent."

"Which is why I sentenced him to jail time," said Thorin wearily. "Until he is better – granted that he  _does_  get better, and for that we must hope – we must keep ourselves and him safe.  _That_ , sister, is why I have acted thus. Not to punish your son. That is not my intention."

"Dís is right, though," said Dwalin. "If Fíli is seen in jail, he will not be trusted to rule our people."

"That is why I need your help," Thorin said. "If Fíli remains violent, we will need to move him to the jail. It is empty for the time being, but we have to consider the guards. They may talk. I propose that we replace them with dwarves that are loyal – those at this table, and possibly a few others – and bring him there under the cover of night."

"Why can't he stay here?" said Kíli. "Why the jail?"

"We cannot keep him under close enough watch here," said Thorin. "If he hurts anyone—"

"He won't hurt us!" Kíli exclaimed. "He was just – just caught up in his nightmare—"

"Kíli, you heard what he said," Thorin interrupted sharply. "You saw the way he acted."

"He isn't a criminal!" said Kíli heatedly. "He is my  _brother_! I won't see him treated like a villain!"

"Kíli, calm down," said Glóin. "Thorin is right. It may be the safest place for him."

"Aye, just until he comes back to himself," said Balin. "There's sense in it, laddie."

Kíli looked to Dís desperately, trying to catch her eye; she turned and met his gaze, her blue eyes shining. Then she shook her head, so slightly that Kíli almost missed it.

"Mum, no," he said, his voice cracking. He looked around the table, but the others would not meet his eye. A sudden rage bubbled up inside him then, and he pounded both fists on the table, making it shake.

"You can't do this!" he roared. "He is your kin! All of you! You would do this to your own family?"

"It's the best option we have, Kíli, and it isn't for sure," said Dís calmly. "I don't like it either, but after hearing your uncle, I have to say that he is right."

"It's  _not right_!" Kíli shouted. "I won't let you do this!"

"The decision is not yours to make," said Thorin sharply, rising to his feet. "This is not a punishment. It is a precaution."

Kíli glared at his uncle fiercely, at a loss for words. Suddenly he stood; his chair clattered to the ground behind him, and he stalked off to his room, his mind in a blaze of fury.

"Kíli, don't—"

Kíli opened the bedroom door and was instantly snatched inside, Fíli's arm wrapped tightly around him tightly. Kíli felt the sharp tip of one of Fíli's many knives against his throat, and an icy chill of panic drained him of all ability to move or think. He stood rigid, moving only as his brother dragged him out of the bedroom and six pairs of eyes looked on in horror.

"Stay back!" Fíli said, pulling Kíli with him around the table and towards the front door. "Let me go, and nobody gets hurt."

"Fíli, lad, don't do this," said Glóin, taking a step forward; Kíli felt the tip of the blade press into his throat, and he jerked his head back. The tip came close to his throat again.

"Stay where you are!" Fíli said. They were almost to the door now, and still none of the dwarves had moved – save for Óin, who was slowly reaching for his bag. Kíli watched him curiously as he was dragged to the door.

"Thank you for your hospitality, but I'll be going now," said Fíli; then he let Kíli go and dashed out the front door.

"Óin!" Thorin shouted, and the old apothecary tossed a bottle to his king. Kíli found himself suddenly on his knees, the world swimming before him; Thorin brushed by and out the door at top speed, and Dís knelt beside him, her face drawn with worry.

"Are you all right?" she said, taking his face in her hands.

"I'm – I-I'm fine," Kíli said, pushing her away and rising to his feet.

_He was going to kill me. Fíli threatened to kill me._

Kíli ran out the door.

He could see Thorin in the distance, catching up to Fíli quickly – even at his age, Thorin was faster than either of his nephews. As Kíli watched, Thorin slammed into the blond dwarf and wrapped an arm around him, slapping one hand over his nose and mouth. Fíli struggled for a few moments, and then suddenly collapsed; Thorin caught him clumsily and lowered him to the ground, his hand still over the younger dwarf's face.

Kíli dashed to his side as quickly as his legs would carry him.

"What have you done?" Kíli exclaimed, dropping beside his unconscious brother. Thorin pocketed a rag and the bottle Óin had tossed him.

"Ether," he said breathlessly. "Help me carry him inside. He'll come to in just a minute."

Kíli set aside his outrage for the time being and helped Thorin with the burden of his big brother, his mind racing. They had almost made it to the bedroom when Fíli began to stir; his eyes opened slowly, a bewildered look on his face as his gaze roved. He tried to lift an arm, but it flopped uselessly at his side – he was awake, but the ether was still in his system. They laid him down on the bed, and Thorin beckoned for Óin.

"Quickly," he said.

Óin approached with a thick, red liquid on a spoon, and Thorin pulled open Fíli's jaw to allow Óin to slip it in. Fíli swallowed automatically, the bewildered gaze still lingering on his face; minutes passed silently as the draught took hold, and finally Fíli drifted off to sleep.

"We move him tonight," Thorin said; he tried to sound gruff, but his voice broke.


	5. Wrath

_Everything's gone wrong._

The thought coursed through Kíli's head over and over as he sat at the bedside, his head in his hands; Fíli lay beside him, breathing deeply in a drugged sleep. So far, he had slept peacefully with no indication of nightmares, but still Kíli kept close watch.

_You've always taken care of me. Now it's my turn to take care of you._

A knock came at the door, and Kíli raised his head and took a deep breath to steady himself.

"Come in," he called.

The door opened slowly, and Kíli heard his mother's footsteps behind him. He turned his head slightly to the side as she approached and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Do you need anything?" she said gently; there was a hesitancy to her voice, as if she were afraid to speak. Kíli shook his head but did not say anything, his irritation at her touch almost like a physical itch. His hand twitched.

Dís was silent for a few moments, and then she patted his shoulder and kissed the top of his head. He sat rigidly, neither accepting nor rejecting her touch, and she sighed and removed her hand.

"You're angry with me," she said.

 _Angry_  wasn't the word.  _Betrayed_  was more like it.

"You agreed with Uncle. About Fíli," he said. Dís took a breath to speak, but Kíli continued. "I thought you were with me. Putting Fíli in jail – he hasn't done anything wrong, Mum. He was just—"

"Caught up in a nightmare? Do you honestly believe that?" Dís said sharply. "Kíli, he threatened to kill you. He held a knife to your throat. He was waiting behind the door. He  _planned_  it."

"You agreed to it before that even happened," Kíli snapped. He turned his dark eyes on his mother, and she stared right back, undaunted by the fire in his gaze.

"You are letting your emotions cloud your judgment," said Dís. "You saw his behavior and you heard what he said. This is to keep him – and  _you_  – safe."

"Safe? He's my  _brother_! He wouldn't—"

"That's enough," Dís said. "You are either unwilling or unable to understand. This is the best we can do in this situation, and that is the end of it. It is not your decision to make."

A thousand angry words coursed through his head in the span of a moment, but sixty-seven years of honoring elders stayed his tongue. His insides coiled and his fingers twitched; he clenched his jaw and said nothing as a fierce storm raged in his heart. His mother did not break her gaze. She could be as stubborn as her son if she wished, and she would not allow Kíli to win this silent battle.

The sound of the front door opening took the attention of both of them, and two sets of heavy footsteps made their way towards the bedroom. Kíli's heart leapt in his chest. They were coming for Fíli – he knew it. He placed a hand on Fíli's arm and took a deep breath.

_This can't be happening._

Kíli stood and turned to face the door just as Thorin entered with Dwalin behind him. They looked at him and then at each other, a whole conversation passing silently between them before Thorin turned back to his youngest nephew.

"Kíli—"

"Please, Uncle," said Kíli, feeling the sting of sudden tears in his eyes. He stared at Thorin beseechingly.  _Please don't do this._

The old dwarf said nothing; his gaze moved beyond Kíli to Fíli, and he took a step forward. Kíli held out his arms to either side protectively, glaring. With a sigh, Thorin eyed his nephew, earning an increasingly hostile glare in return.

Thorin spoke softly, as if he were coaxing a wary animal to trust him.

"We're not going to hurt him, Kíli."

A feeling niggled into Kíli's mind that he was being ridiculous – of course Thorin wouldn't hurt his brother. Thorin would never harm Fíli. This logic was overridden, however, by the angry pounding drum in his head that said  _I won't let them do this_  over and over. He stood his ground, yanking his arm away from Dís's hesitant touch.

"Just give him some time," he said. "Wait until he wakes up. He might be fine then."

"And if he's not?" said Thorin evenly.

Kíli had no answer, but he was too stubborn to back down now. He stayed where he was, his arms held out, as Thorin took another step.

"Kíli, please," Dís pleaded, taking hold of his arm again. He tried to pull away from her, but this time, she held him tightly. Anger boiled up in him as he turned his head to shoot a glare in her direction.

"Mum, let me go," he snapped.

Dís studied him hard for a moment; then she shot a quick look at Thorin. Before Kíli could react, she had both his arms behind him and was pulling him away from the bed, and Thorin and Dwalin moved in and picked up the unconscious Fíli between them. Kíli let out a dismayed shout and fought against his mother's grip, but she held him tightly and he could not escape.

"You can't do this!" he shouted as Thorin and Dwalin left the room with his big brother. "It's not right! It's  _not right! You can't do this!_ "

"Stop it, Kíli!" said Dís. "You're being childish!"

"They're putting Fíli in jail, Mum!" he said thickly. "In  _jail_!"

"They're keeping him  _safe_ ," Dís said sternly. "Until we know what is wrong and if he is better, it's the safest place he can be." She turned him around and forced him to sit on the bed, keeping heavy pressure on his shoulders. He glared up at her sullenly; he knew better than to try to force his way out now. When she was sure that her son was cooperative, she released her hold and sat down next to him.

Suddenly Kíli felt completely overwhelmed, and he turned and buried his face into Dís's shoulder. She wrapped her arms around him and rested her cheek on the top of his head.

"I don't understand," Kíli mumbled.

"What don't you understand?" said Dís.

"How this could happen," he said brokenly. "Fíli would…" He took a breath to steady himself. "He would never hurt me.  _Never._ "

"No, he wouldn't," said Dís.

Kíli sat up and looked into his mother's eyes; there was such compassion in her gaze that he almost lost his composure. He sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, squaring his shoulders. Now was not the time for crying.

"I need to go be with him," he said.

Dís's eyebrows drew together. "I don't know if that's a good idea," she said cautiously.

"Why not?" he said. "We don't know  _anything._  What if he has nightmares? What if he wakes up alone in a jail cell and—" He pressed his lips together and shook his head. "No; I need to be there for him."

Dís sighed, but she nodded. "I won't stop you," she said. "Just promise me that you'll be wise. Be safe."

Kíli stood and kissed his mother's forehead. "I'll be wise," he promised. "I'm going to catch up to Uncle and Mister Dwalin."

Dís and Kíli exchanged halfhearted smiles, and Kíli ran out the door.

* * *

It was dark and silent inside the jail. There was a musty, earthy smell about, and the air held a damp chill often felt in underground places. The jail itself was not underground, but its walls were made of stone, and there had been no effort made to make sure the place was comfortable. Three cells lined one wall; two were empty, and in the one remaining slept Fíli.

Kíli leaned against the far wall, fuming. The only thing stopping him from running into the cell and sitting at his brother's side was a deeply ingrained respect for his elders. If it were up to him, Fíli would be at home in their bed, not on a pallet on the dirt floor. The injustice burned his heart and left a bad taste in his mouth.

In a chair by the cell sat Thorin, smoking his pipe and staring thoughtfully out into nothing. He had taken the first watch; then the duty would pass to Dwalin, and then Thorin would arrange for others if necessary. Kíli, however, was not included in the watch. Thorin had said he was "too emotional" for the task. He had not, however, barred Kíli from merely being present, and so he stayed, watching his brother closely for any signs of waking.

After a long time passed quietly between the two dwarves, Kíli finally decided to speak.

"How much longer will he sleep?"

Thorin's far-off stare returned to the present, and he turned his gaze to Kíli.

"Hm?"

"Fíli. How much longer until he wakes?"

Thorin pulled his pipe out of his mouth with a sigh and looked over at his elder nephew. "I do not know," he said. "I imagine he'll wake up soon. It's been hours."

"He isn't having nightmares," Kíli said. "Maybe he's all right now. Maybe we should—"

"He stays in here until we know for sure," said Thorin sharply, turning his deep blue gaze back on Kíli. They fought with their eyes for a few moments, and then Kíli slumped back against the wall and stared straight ahead, his head buzzing with frustration. Thorin returned to smoking his pipe.

A long time passed, and neither spoke; Thorin seemed perfectly comfortable, brooding quietly in his chair. Every minute of silence grated on Kíli more and more – he could barely stand it, but he would not leave until he saw his brother's eyes open.  _Until I know he's better._  He tried to relax by smoking for a bit, but even that could not calm him. He was too restless.

Finally, Fíli stirred, and Kíli dropped his pipe. He dashed forward towards the cell, taking hold of the bars and peering down at his brother desperately. Fíli sat up slowly, swaying and blinking and looking completely bewildered.

"Fí—" Kíli began, but Thorin grabbed his arm and he stopped. He looked to his uncle, perplexed; Thorin shook his head and put a finger to his lips.

"Let him get his bearings," he whispered.

Desperate as he was to make sure his brother was all right, Kíli obeyed, staring wide-eyed into the cell, As Fíli took notice of his surroundings, he seemed to grow alarmed; he looked to his left and his right quickly, and Kíli could hear his breathing quicken. It was a great struggle for the brown-haired dwarf to remained silent – his fingers tightened around the bars until his knuckles turned white, and a small, short whimper sounded from his throat. Fíli finally noticed his kin watching him, and he straightened, his eyes strangely dark even in the low light.

"You drugged me," he said. His voice was soft, but bitterness filtered through all the same.

Thorin nodded stoically. "How are you feeling?" he said, matching the softness in his elder nephew's tone, but his own voice was gentle.

Fíli merely glared at his uncle, and Kíli swallowed nervously.  _He's just angry,_  he told himself.  _I'd be angry, too. I'm sure he's better._

"W-what do you remember?" said Kíli. Fíli's eyes flicked over to him, and the look he gave was so foreign – so  _not Fíli_  – that Kíli took a step away from the cell, though he did not let go of the bars.

"I woke up and  _you_  were trying to hold me down," Fíli said. "Then your kin stopped me from escaping – locked me away in that room. And then I – I almost got away, and  _he_  drugged me." He nodded at Thorin with narrowed eyes. "Just let me go. I have nothing you need or want."

The more Fíli spoke, the lower Kíli's heart sank. He stepped closer to the cell again, not yet ready to give up.

"But surely you remember us," he said. "It's me, Fee. It's Kíli."

Fíli's brow furrowed, and he shook his head.

"I'm your Kíli," he whispered. "Think. Think back, before you awoke. What do you remember?"

"Kíli, be careful what you say," Thorin muttered, watching Fíli closely. The blond dwarf was shaking his head again, his expression one of complete befuddlement.

"Three days ago? We were at the creek, remember?" Kíli pressed. "You rescued me. You pulled me out of the creek."

"No," Fíli said with a small voice.

"Fee, come on – it's me. Remember when we – when we were kids? I saved you from an orc – chopped its head clean off.* Remember?"

"Stop," Fíli said quietly, taking his head in his hands.

"Or – or when we ruined Bofur's hat and we had to buy him a new one?"

"I don't know—"

"When we beat Mister Dwalin in training! It took the both of us, but we were so proud… surely you remember that!"

"Kíli, stop," said Thorin tersely as Fíli covered his ears, shaking his head violently now.

But Kíli did not listen. "You've  _got_  to remember," he said. "Just  _think_! It's in there somewhere!"

"Shut  _up_!" Fíli shouted. He ripped his trembling hands from his ears and pushed himself up, rushing at the bars of the cell and slamming his hands against them. Kíli stepped away, shocked into silence.

"Shut up! Just  _shut up_! You sniveling little worm – you pathetic creature –  _I don't know you!_  Just  _leave me alone!_ "

Kíli opened his mouth and closed it again; he had no idea what to say. His heart pounded and his hands shook.  _This can't be happening. This isn't happening._

"Fíli…" Kíli tried to say, but he could make no sound past the lump in his throat.

"Look at you," Fíli snarled. "You're pathetic. Tears in your eyes and everything. Oh, if I weren't in this cell—"

"Kíli, go," Thorin said, rising to his feet. Kíli tried to obey, but he was rooted to the spot.

"I'd wring your skinny little neck," Fíli continued. "I'd love to just—"

"Enough!" Thorin roared; both Fíli and Kíli jumped and looked to their uncle. "Not another word," Thorin said, pointing a finger at Fíli. The blond pushed off the bars and settled back on his pallet, glaring. Thorin turned to Kíli then and took hold of his face, turning him away from his brother.

"Kíli – go," he said. His voice was gentle, but it was a command. Kíli shook his head and tried to look at Fíli, but Thorin turned him back. He could feel a tear sliding down his cheek.

"We'll take care of this. We'll fix this – somehow. But for now – Kíli –  _go home._ "

Kíli took in a hitched breath and nodded.  _Pathetic._  He wiped away the tears rolling down his cheeks, and Thorin let him go. Without another word, he ran out the door and did not stop running until he had reached home.

"Kíli? Kíli, what's the matter?" said Dís as he flew through the kitchen to his bedroom. He was fighting so hard to keep it together, but he could not stop the tears. He dropped onto his bed and wrapped his arms around the first pillow he touched, burying his face into it. It smelled like Fíli.

 _Pathetic._  A muffled sob escaped him.

"Kíli?" said Dís; the mattress moved, and her fingers were suddenly in his hair. He shook his head and gripped the pillow tighter.

"Please go," he said.

Her fingers stopped, and her hand slid down to his back.

"What's happened?"

" _Please_ , Mum!" Kíli choked out.

Dís was silent for a moment. Finally, with a gentle pat, she rose and left the room. As soon as the door clicked shut, a muted sob left his lips.  _Pathetic._

Whatever had happened to Fíli, his brother was gone. The dwarf with golden braids in that jail cell was not his Fíli.

Kíli cried for half the night, and lay awake for the rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *You can read about this encounter in my fic A Brother's Promise!


	6. Tears

Morning came with a still, disquieting silence – one that had Kíli's nerves on edge. He had given up on sleep sometime in the night; without Fíli there, he had been restless – not to mention that he felt achy and stuffed up after crying for so long.

_Pathetic._

Ill words danced in Kíli's head, mocking him and laughing at his misery.  _Pathetic. Sniveling._  Words that never should have left Fíli's lips. Words that Kíli had never thought  _would_  leave Fíli's lips. His brother had always said that he was strong, that his ability to let insults roll off his back was something to be envied. Fíli took what people said more to heart and dwelt on their words; he was more introspective that way. Often it took Kíli's cheerful demeanor to bring him around.

When the insults came from Fíli, though, Kíli's defenses were gone.

Did Fíli really think of him that way? Or was it just whatever was affecting his mind talking? Fear and doubt gnawed at his insides, and great turmoil began to churn inside him. His first instinct was to go to Fíli – but he couldn't. Not this time. A lump developed in his throat, but he took a deep breath to stay himself.  _No,_  he thought.  _I am_  not  _pathetic._

The sound of the front door opening pulled Kíli from his thoughts. He looked up from his seat on the couch, waiting for Thorin to pass by the doorway. He could hear his uncle sigh and then remove his boots; then his purposeful footsteps began to move closer. As he appeared in the doorway, Kíli called out:

"Uncle?"

Kíli cringed at the sound of his own voice. It sounded small - childish. If Thorin noticed, however, he made no indication. He merely stepped into the room, looking upon his youngest nephew with sad, tired eyes.

"You haven't slept, have you?" the old dwarf said.

"Neither have you."

A halfhearted grin appeared on Thorin's lips as he bowed his head in concession to this fact. Kíli drew the blanket in which he had wrapped himself tighter around his body.

"He hasn't changed," Thorin said in answer to Kíli's unspoken question. "He says he remembers nothing. All he seems to know about himself is his name."

Kíli blinked wearily. He was too tired to react.

"It's not true, you know."

Kíli furrowed his brow. "What isn't true?" he said.

"What Fíli said to you," said Thorin.

Kíli sucked in a sharp breath and quickly looked down as tears suddenly filled his eyes. He pressed his lips together and squeezed his eyes shut; twin teardrops fell into his lap. How had Thorin known? He tried to withhold further tears, but he was too exhausted to have such fortitude.  _Pathetic._

Thorin's large, calloused hands came to rest on either side of Kíli's face; his forehead made contact with his nephew's. Kíli sniffled, and two more tears dripped from his face.

"Do you remember what I told you when you had pneumonia?" Thorin said. Kíli nodded.  _You are strong,_  he had said.  _Stronger than I even thought. You are_ so _strong._

"That still holds true today," he continued. "Do not take what your brother says to heart. He is not in his right mind."

Kíli made a soft sound in agreement and sniffed again. Thorin patted his face gently and remained still for another minute in silence, allowing Kíli to draw comfort from the contact in his own time. Finally, Kíli pulled back with a shuddering sigh and met Thorin's eyes.

"All right?" said Thorin.

"Yeah," Kíli said. Thorin smiled sadly and let go; he stood up and took a step back.

"I'm going to sleep," he said. "Dwalin is with Fíli; they will be fine. Get some sleep."

"I'll try," Kíli said, even though he knew he wouldn't. His eyes followed his uncle until he rounded the corner to the hall, and then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

 _You are strong,_  he told himself.  _Not pathetic._

He longed for his brother, but Fíli was gone. They had his body in captivity, surely, but his mind was missing – either buried deep or taken from him.

 _But how?_  Kíli thought. Poison? A bump on the head? There were no signs of either. Fey magic?

Kíli's eyes snapped open as the last thought occurred to him. Hadn't he felt like something had been watching him in that cave? There had been no sign of a fight or any kind of struggle at all. Why hadn't this occurred to him before?

But how did one go about reversing fey magic? Kíli racked his brain for any knowledge he might have acquired over the years from his books or his elders, but nothing came to mind. In all the stories he had read and all the tales he had heard, the fey had a mind of their own and listened to no one – not Man, Elf, or Dwarf. His stomach turned. And he had thought a pixie would grant him wishes…  _Stupid_ , he scolded himself. All it had done was push him into the creek and almost kill him.

But maybe – just maybe – he had not heard all there was about the fey. Perhaps there were stories he had forgotten, or even stories he had not heard.

 _Wait,_  he told himself. He couldn't get carried away. First, he needed more evidence that it was fey mischief, and not something more common. That meant talking to Fíli, and he was not sure he was ready for that yet. The image of his brother's face, contorted into a hateful snarl, popped up in his mind; he shook his head violently to erase it from his thoughts, but he only succeeded in making himself dizzy as his stuffed nose and his flooded sinuses sloshed. With a groan, he rested his temple on the arm of the couch and pulled his blanket over his head.

_This is so wrong._

He was so tired. He yawned into the couch, and his eyes watered; he needed sleep so badly, but without the familiar comfort of his brother's presence, it was hard. He resigned himself to simply laying still with his eyes closed. It was the closest he was going to get.

Minutes passed in silence, and Kíli's frustration was building by the moment. He moaned and slid down off the arm of the couch, curling onto his side with his forehead pressed into the back and the blanket covering his entire person. He could hear his mother in the kitchen, but he tried to tune out the sound.

Several more minutes passed, and still Kíli could not sleep. He was just thinking of getting up and continuing through the day exhausted when he heard Dís's footsteps coming closer; so he lay still and pretended he had finally dozed off.

Her footsteps stopped next to the couch.

"Kíli?"

He didn't want to talk. He stayed still and quiet. Dís sighed, and Kíli heard the  _thunk_ of something on the side table.

"I know you're awake, love," she said softly; Kíli did not answer. After a few moments, she sighed again, and her footsteps faded from the room.

When he was sure that she was gone, Kíli lifted his head and sat up, curious to see what she had left him. As he peered over the arm, a sheepish smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. A cup of tea sat invitingly, waiting for him.

Kíli reached out and took the cup, and then retreated back into his blanket cocoon. She had always made her boys tea when they were upset, and both Fíli and Kíli had learned to associate the taste with motherly comfort. He took a sip and relaxed, allowing the nostalgic feeling to wash over him and wipe away the fears and doubts that plagued him.

Had he been listening, he might have heard his mother's giggle from the doorway.

* * *

Though he tried, Kíli still could not fall asleep. Thoughts swirled through his mind like a whirlwind, and he could not stay them. The frustration was enough to drive him nearly mad; even without the stress of the past few days, he felt like he would have been close to tears. Finally, he gave up and sauntered into the kitchen with his blanket still wrapped around him. His mother was nowhere in sight. He sat at the table and dropped his face into his arms.

_Please sleep… come._

A soft  _click_  drew Kíli's attention to his bedroom door. He looked up to see Dís emerging with a bundle in her arms.

"What's that?" he said, his voice scratchy with exhaustion.

"Things for your brother," said Dís without looking up. "Just because he is in prison doesn't mean we have to treat him like a prisoner." She sniffed indignantly and folded a falling blanket corner back into her arms.

Kíli sat up straight. "Are you going to see him now?" he said.

"Yes," said Dís. "I imagine you'll want to—oh, darling, what's the matter?"

Dís had finally looked up, and judging from her reaction, Kíli looked at least as terrible as he felt. He ducked his head sheepishly; he could try to downplay how tired he was, but his mother would see right through it. He might as well be honest.

"I didn't get any sleep last night," he said.

"Is that why you were wrapped up on the couch?"

"I couldn't stay in bed," he said. "I couldn't sleep. I tried, but…" He shrugged. "I just couldn't."

"Without Fíli there?" said Dís softly.

Kíli turned and looked down at his hands, and his hair fell in a curtain over his face. He nodded ever so slightly, his cheeks burning. Sixty-two years old, and he still couldn't sleep without his big brother beside him. He never had been able to – there was something solid and steadfast in Fíli that calmed and reassured him, and without that presence, he felt uneasy and alone. Even sleeping beside him when he had been caught in the throes of nightmares had been easier than this.

Dís's hand suddenly touched his cheek, and he started; she turned his face to hers and pushed his hair behind his ears. Her deep blue eyes studied him intently.

"You and Fíli have a special bond, Kíli," she said. "Do not be ashamed of it."

"But he doesn't remember me," Kíli said. He swallowed, trying to force down the lump building in his throat. "He tried to  _kill_  me, Mum. He said he wanted to – to—"

His voice broke as he burst into tears and dropped his head onto her shoulder; she wrapped her arms around him and held him as he cried.

"Shhh, my love," she said. "It will be all right."

Kíli tried to answer  _You don't know that_ , but all that came out was a hoarse sob. His mother's arms tightened around him.

"If you were smaller, I'd pull you right into my lap and hold you until the world's ending," Dís whispered.

"I'm not a child," Kíli choked out.

"You will always be my child," she said firmly. "For ever and ever."

Kíli huffed as a smile formed on his lips, and he pulled back and looked into his mother's eyes. She smiled wistfully and wiped the tears from his cheeks.

"You have your father's eyes," she said. Her voice sounded far away and sad; Kíli could see the painful memories playing in the cerulean depths. After a few moments, her gaze returned to the present, and she kissed her son's forehead.

"Come," she said. "I am sure you want to see your brother. We can go together."

Kíli was not sure he  _wanted_  to see Fíli – not in the state he was in. But he knew that he  _needed_  to. He needed answers; he would get his brother back, no matter what the cost.

* * *

"He's asleep," Dwalin said quietly to Dís.

Dís glanced at her eldest son, who lay face down on the pallet in his cell, blond hair splayed in every direction. He was breathing slowly and steadily, but Dís narrowed her eyes.

"Are you sure?" she said.

"I think so," Dwalin replied. "Thorin says he was up all night."

Kíli wondered if Fíli had stayed awake for the same reason he had, even though he could not remember. He wanted to ask, but he stopped himself. Dwalin would not know the answer anyway.

"What has he been doing?" Kíli asked. "Has he been asleep since you arrived?"

Dwalin shook his head. As he turned to look at Fíli, his normally hard expression softened.

"He sat and glared at me for a while, but then he got tired of it and laid down." Dwalin turned sad eyes to Dís and Kíli. "He was crying for a bit, poor lad. I don't think that he thought I could hear him."

Kíli stared at his brother, his heart aching. Fíli was  _scared_. He had seen it when he had pushed him too far trying to remember, and now this. He wished that he could somehow fix everything, but he did not know how. Fíli was lost, so lost, and Kíli wanted him back.

"I've brought him some things," Dís said, holding up the bundle in her arms. "May I go in?"

"I would advise against it, milady," said Dwalin. "He's dangerous."

"He is my  _son_ , and he is not a criminal," Dís snapped. "He deserves to have some comfort if he is to be kept in this horrid place."

Dwalin nodded, his visage apologetic. "Of course," he said, and with that, he pulled out the keys and unlocked the cell door. Dís took a deep breath and stepped in with her bundle.

"Go in with her, laddie," said Dwalin. "Just in case."

Kíli cringed at those words, but he followed her in, watching Fíli carefully. As far as he could tell, Fíli was actually asleep; as he got closer, he could hear how congested his breathing was, and his heart sank. He  _had_  been crying. Fíli rarely cried.

He knelt beside Dís on the dirt floor by Fíli's head and watched his brother's sleeping frame. His heart was aching again – it was almost a constant feeling now. He had never been without his brother like this, and he did not know how to live without him. It was uncomfortable and even painful.

"Lift his head," said Dís, her voice low. Kíli looked up at her; she held a pillow in her hands, and she was gazing down at her eldest sadly. Kíli did as he was told gingerly, though he knew Fíli would not wake up. When he slept, he was dead to the world. Dís slipped the pillow under his head, and Kíli let his head down gently. He brushed the hair off Fíli's face, pulling at the bits that stuck to his tear-stained cheeks as Dís laid a blanket over him.

Kíli opened his mouth to speak, but then he bit the words back. A lump was already developing in his throat again.  _I want him back._  He looked up at his mother, who looked back at him with shining eyes, then down at Fíli. She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

"I love you," she whispered. Kíli looked away and swallowed. He wished Fíli would wake up and be his old self again – self-possessed and confident, not this angry, frightened dwarf with no memory. He hated that they had to tiptoe around him and keep him locked up. This wasn't  _Fíli_.

"Come, Kíli," Dís said softly. Kíli stood up and held out his hand for his mother. She took it and he pulled her back to her feet, and she dusted the dirt off her knees. They left the cell together, and Dwalin locked up after them.

"Are you going to stay?" Dís said to Kíli.

"Aren't you?" Kíli replied.

Dís shook her head. "It's… it's too hard." She swallowed. "I'll come back later and make sure he is comfortable. Bring him some food."

Kíli nodded. "I need to ask him some questions when he wakes," he said. "I'm going to try to get to the bottom of this."

Dís pursed her lips and studied Kíli for a moment before she spoke.

"Very well," she said. "Just… don't push him. Remember that he is afraid. He doesn't know who we are." She paused and took a in a breath. "He doesn't know who  _he_  is. Promise me you'll remember."

"I'll do my best, Mum," he said.

Dís smiled sadly and left the building; Kíli leaned up against the wall, his shoulders sagging.

"Are ye all right, Kíli?" Dwalin said.

"Just tired," Kíli replied. "I didn't sleep well. Or, I didn't sleep at all."

"Why don't ye just go home?" said Dwalin. "Fíli will be fine here."

"No," said Kíli adamantly. "I need to talk to him."

Dwalin looked him over sharply, and then he gestured at the chair by the cell.

"Sit, then," he said. "I'll stand."

Kíli could not hide his relief as he strode over to the chair and sat down, groaning.

"Thank you, Mister Dwalin," he said.

The old warrior merely grunted, and the two fell into silence, waiting. When Fíli awoke, Kíli would get whatever answers he could. He would fix this. He had to.


	7. Answers

At first, Kíli did not notice that Fíli had awoken, tired as he was. When he finally caught sight of the dark eyes looking up at him from behind the iron bars, he started. A mirthless grin played on Fíli's lips.

"You're awake," Kíli said, regaining his composure quickly.

Fíli did not respond. He merely glared.

Kíli straightened and looked towards Dwalin, who was leaning against the wall, cleaning his fingernails with a small knife. The old warrior said nothing, merely meeting the brunet's eyes for a moment before returning to his nails. Kíli took a deep breath. Now was his chance - but would Fíli speak? If he did, would he tell him the truth?

"I need to ask you some questions," he said, forcing the waver out of his voice.

A glimmer of panic shone in Fíli's features before a stone mask closed over them. He sat up straight, fixing his unnaturally dark eyes on his brother's face. A slight quiver passed through his bottom lip before he bit it.

"I won't answer," he said.

"I'll keep asking until you do," Kíli shot back. "You may not remember me, but I know who you are, Fee - Fíli - I know who you really are. And I will have my brother back, with your help or without."

Fíli scoffed and looked down; a messy, half-undone braid fell over his face. Kíli's fingers twitched - he wanted to fix that braid, to make Fíli look more like _Fíli_. He leaned forward in his chair and clasped his hands together.

"What do you remember?" he said.

Fíli's head snapped up, a fierce scowl on his face.

"I already  _told_  you,"he snapped.

"Yes, yes - you told me everything I was  _there_  for," Kíli said with a wave of his hand. "But what else? What about  _before_  you awoke? You must remember  _something_."

Fíli squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. "Nothing," he said. "There's nothing there."

Kíli would not be fooled. He knew his brother, though his brother did not know him, and he could tell when he was lying - and he was lying now.

"Tell me the truth," he pressed.

"I  _am_  telling you the truth," said Fíli through gritted teeth.

"When you were unconscious, you were screaming. Do you remember why?"

"Stop," Fíli growled.

"You  _do_ , don't you?" Kíli said eagerly, though his heart was thumping. Part of his mind was telling him to stop, but the other part was pushing him onward, desperate to get any information at all. "Why, Fíli? Why were you screaming?"

Fíli shook his head violently. "Don't," he said, his voice cracking. "Stop it. Just stop it."

"Laddie, perhaps you should let him alone," said Dwalin, though he did not move from his spot.

"No!" Kíli said, though in truth, he wanted to. He was hurting his brother, and he knew it. But - "I have to know! I have to find a way to bring him back!"

Dwalin was silent, and Kíli turned back to his brother.

"I am trying to  _help_  you," he said. "Just tell me."

"You're not helping," Fíli growled. "Leave me alone, or I swear I will kill you the first chance I get."

Kíli pushed away the deep stab of hurt those words brought and pressed further. "What did this to you?" he said.

"I'll wrap my hands around that neck and choke the life out of you!" Fíli shouted. Kíli could see his hands shaking.

" _What do you remember?_ "

"I'll gouge out your eyes and cut out your tongue!"

" _Tell me!_ "

"You'll beg for death before I'm through with you!"

"I'm not going to stop, Fíli, until you  _tell me_!" Kíli shouted, standing to his feet.

Without warning, Fíli threw himself to the ground and buried his face in the pillow Dís had brought him. He let out a long, hoarse scream that shook Kíli to the very core of his being. Dwalin pushed off the wall and stepped forward; Kíli met his eyes, wherein he saw the same fear and confusion that coursed through his own heart. They looked back to their kin, who had curled into a tight ball, his arms over his head and his body shaking with sobs. Kíli stepped hesitantly towards the cell and grabbed the iron bars.

"Fíli?"

"It was d-darkness and despair and a-anger and laughter," Fíli sobbed. "Hollow eyes and sharp teeth and d-dead flesh. It wouldn't let me go - it laughed and laughed and I screamed and begged but it wouldn't stop, it wouldn't stop, it wouldn't  _stop_!"

The last phrase came out in a shriek as Fíli curled tighter into himself, shaking uncontrollably. Pitiful sobs left his lips as he began to whimper.

"Make it stop, make it stop,  _make it stop_ , no,  _no_ ,  _please..._ "

The repetition continued, and Kíli swallowed, unsure of what to do. He looked back again to Dwalin, but he was gone. He took a deep breath and sank to his knees, pressing into the bars that stood between him and his brother. He called out softly, but Fíli merely moaned and scooted himself into the corner of the cell, hiding his face and continuing to whisper to no one.

"Stop,  _stop_ ,  _please_ , please no,  _no_..."

Kíli could do nothing but watch. Dwalin had taken the keys with him, wherever he had gone, and even if he hadn't Kíli was sure that his comfort would not be welcomed.

_What have I done?_

He sat in silence, regret coursing painfully through him as Fíli was lost to reality. He had done this. Once again, he had pushed too hard, and Fíli had snapped. Would he never learn? This new Fíli was fragile and frightening and full of fear and anger, so unlike the brother he knew.

Minutes later, Dwalin returned with Óin in tow. Kíli looked up at his two elders wearily.

"Help him," he said.

Óin stepped closer to the cell and stared at Fíli for a few moments, his lips pressed together and his eyes filled with compassion. Then, he reached into his satchel and pulled out a small bottle filled with a greenish-yellow substance.

"Let me in," he said softly. Dwalin stepped forward and unlocked the door; Óin stepped in quietly and knelt at Fíli's side. Fíli did not notice him at first, his head tucked into his arms and his babbling covering the sounds of Óin approaching. When the older dwarf touched his shoulder, he jumped and backed further into the corner, peeking through his arms at his attacker. Óin held out the bottle in his hand; Fíli stared at him apprehensively.

"This will make it stop," Óin said.

Fíli slowly let down his arms, but made no further move towards his cousin. His fingers twitched.

"It'll stop?" he said, his voice high and childish. The former animosity seemed to be completely gone, replaced by a desperate fear of whatever was in his mind from which he was so desperate to escape. Óin nodded and uncorked the bottle, the  _pop_  making Fíli flinch. He held it out again, and Fíli reached out with trembling hands and took it. He gulped it down quickly, and Óin rose and stepped back out of the cell. Kíli made to get up and go in, but Dwalin put out an arm and stopped him.

"Let him be, laddie," Dwalin said. He locked the door, and Kíli watched his brother's trembling slowly cease and his whimpered pleas quieten as the medicine took hold.

"What did you give him?" Kíli said to Óin.

"Just something to calm him," said the old apothecary. "It settles the mind and slows thought. He should be sluggish for a few hours, but he'll be relaxed."

Kíli turned to Óin and nodded. "Thank you," he said.

Óin smiled sadly and nodded in return. Kíli pulled himself up on the bars watching as Fíli curled up on his pallet and hugged his pillow tightly. One cold blue eye was watching them, the other hidden from view. Kíli ground his teeth.

"I'll be back later," he said. "Mister Dwalin, do you need someone to take your place?"

"I'll stay a while longer," Dwalin said. "Send for someone in a couple hours."

"All right," Kíli said. With that, he dashed outside; however, he did not make it far. As soon as he was out of sigh - as soon as he felt the warm outside air on his skin - he stumbled aside and slammed into the wall, covering his eyes with one hand and letting out a sudden sob. His other hand joined the first, and he sank to the ground as he began to weep.

"I'm sorry," he whispered between sobs. "I'm so sorry, Fíli."

* * *

_Knock knock._

The door before Kíli swung open after a few moments, and the dwarf on the other side grinned widely upon seeing his young friend, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

"Bofur," Kíli said, unable to return the smile.

The light faded from Bofur's face as he regarded the look on Kíli's face, and he furrowed his brow.

"Come in, lad," he said seriously. Kíli nodded and stepped inside, his mouth watering instantly at the smell of Bombur's cooking, and he sank into a chair at the kitchen table. He rested his head in his hands, overcome with weariness, and closed his eyes for a moment - or what he thought was a moment - until a hand latched onto his shoulder and shook him hard.

"Kíli, lad, when is the last time you slept?" said Bofur.

Kíli blinked slowly and looked up at his fair-tempered friend, whose visage was unnaturally creased with worry. He offered a half-hearted smile.

"Couldn't sleep last night," he said. "I'm all right."

Bofur raised an eyebrow, but made no further comment. Instead, he made his way over to the stove and poured a cup of coffee, then set it before Kíli.

"Bombur just made it," he said. "Looks like you need it more than I do."

"Thanks," Kíli said. He took a gulp and sighed, enjoying the strong taste characteristic of anything made by Bombur's hands. He looked around. "Where is he, anyway?"

Bofur chuckled. "The pantry, most likely."

Kíli let out a huff of a laugh at that. The pantry, indeed. Where else would he be? Bofur sat down at the table and studied Kíli's face.

"What's wrong, lad?"

Kíli traced the rim of his mug with his middle finger in silence. He had come to Bofur for help, but now that he was here, he didn't know how to start, or how to get the information he sought without alluding to Fíli's situation. Bofur was a friend, but he was not kin, nor any kind of ranking official.

"This is about Fíli, isn't it?"

Kíli's head snapped up, his eyes wide, before he could plan a less telling reaction.

"What?" he croaked.

"I saw them carry him in to the jail," Bofur said gently.

Kíli's eyes grew even wider, and his heart began to thump harder. Bofur had seen? Who else had witnessed Fíli's compromised state? Was their secret out?

"Relax, Kíli," Bofur said. "I haven't told anyone."

"Bombur?" Kíli said as the large, red-haired dwarf entered the kitchen, munching.

"Aye, he was with me," Bofur said. "But-"

"Please, Bofur - you have to keep this a secret," Kíli pleaded. "And you, Bombur."

"We wouldn't tell a soul, lad," said Bofur. "We may not be kin - but we are loyal to your uncle and to your family. Thorin has made a good life for us here. We would not cross him."

Kíli relaxed and leaned back in his seat. Of course Bofur and Bombur wouldn't tell. They were old friends, and good dwarves.

"But - Kíli. Tell us what's happened," Bofur said. Bombur sat beside him, silent as usual as he ate, his eyes lit with compassion and curiosity.

Kíli, reasoning that more information couldn't hurt at this point, launched into the full story, from his near-drowning to the conversation with his brother from which he had just come. Bofur and Bombur listened intently, their faces growing more and more distressed as Kíli spoke. When he had finished, he wiped away the stray tears from his cheeks and was silent, taking in a shuddering breath. After several long moments, Bofur spoke.

"Blimey, lad," he said.

"I came to you for help," Kíli said. "I know that some don't put stock in it, but... I think some kind of pixie or faerie or... something... has done this to my brother. You have both told me stories about the fey, and I wondered if you knew of any where a fey's mischief was reversed."

Bofur and Bombur exchanged glances; Bombur shrugged, and Bofur looked up at the ceiling, deep in thought.

"I don't think I've heard of any," he said finally. "But these pixies and such - they do things just for fun. Maybe you could just ask it to change him back. It might consider that a good laugh."

Kíli's lips twisted. It was not the answer that he wanted, but it was a reasonable suggestion. At least the two brothers had taken him seriously.

"I don't know where it is - or even what it is," he said. "Or - really, I don't even know if I'm right. But I have an idea that I can start with."

"It's worth a try," said Bombur. "I'd try anything for Bofur."

Bofur smiled, his eyes twinkling as he looked at his younger brother. Kíli felt a surge of jealousy as Bofur patted Bombur's shoulder affectionately, and he became keenly aware once again of the ache in his heart. If Bombur, bumbling as he was, would fight for his brother, Kíli would fight all the more. He would do anything to get Fíli back.

"Promise me one thing, though, lad," said Bofur, suddenly serious again.

Kíli met his gaze. "What's that?" he said.

"If you go off anywhere to face fickle creatures, don't go alone," Bofur said. "Take someone with you. It would be no good to lose both our princes."

"I won't," Kíli promised. "And I'll be careful."

Bofur grinned at that. "As careful as a son of Dís ever would be, eh?"

Kíli chuckled sheepishly, taking the jab with grace. He was used to such teasing, especially from Bofur, but he knew that beneath the joke, his friend was deadly serious. He would heed his advice.

"Thank you," Kíli said, rising to his feet. "Thank you both."

"Where are you going already?" Bofur said, dismayed. "Stay a while! You need rest!"

"And food," Bombur added.

"I've got to save Fíli," Kíli said. "Sooner rather than later."

"But you're exhausted!" Bofur protested. "Kíli, be sensible, lad."

"This is too important to wait," said Kíli. "I won't go alone. You have my word."

Bofur hurried around the small table and grabbed Kíli's wrist, his eyes pleading.

"Kíli. You  _need_  rest."

Kíli looked down at Bofur's hand, irritation itching in his abdomen; the elder dwarf let go, and Kíli straightened and looked him straight in the eye.

"I'll rest when I have Fíli back," he said. Then he turned and left the small house, ignoring the stricken faces of his friends.


	8. Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty intense. You might want to brace yourself.

"No."

"Yes."

"You're not going."

"Yes, I am."

Dís looked hard at her youngest, her arms crossed and a fierce scowl on her face. Kíli stared back, his form rigid, save for his flexing fingers. Suddenly, the hard look on Dís's face softened, and she stepped forward; Kíli took a step back.

"Kíli..." she said. "You are exhausted. You need to  _rest_ , not run off on some wild goose chase."

Kíli spluttered for a few moments, shocked. "Wild goose chase?" he said. "This isn't a wild goose chase, Mum! There could very well be clues to what happened to Fíli in that cave! I  _have_  to go!"

"And I'm telling you that you have to  _stay_ ," said Dís adamantly. "You didn't sleep at all last night. You didn't sleep well the night before - don't deny it - and I'm not going to lose you to foolishness.  _Please_  rest, darling."

As Dís spoke, she stepped closer and closer to Kíli until he was backed into the wall. SHe reached out to take his bow off his back, but he twisted out of her reach.

"No!" he shouted. He stepped away from his mother, but his left foot caught on his right, and he stumbled; Dís caught him by the shoulders and held him upright, her mouth set in a grim line.

"You aren't going anywhere but to bed," she said firmly. "Now, take off those weapons and that gear."

"You don't understand!" Kíli burst out. He ripped himself away from Dís and stumbled back into the wall, squeezing his eyes shut to prevent tears from welling up. "I can't sleep! I _can't_! I have to  _do_  something, Mum! I can't live like this!"

Dís studied her son's eyes closely, a curious expression upon her face.

"Mahal forbid you two are ever separated for good," she said quietly. "He'll have to take you together, or not at all."

Kíli smiled despite himself. "Not at all, then," he said.

Dís returned the smile. "That's what I like to hear," she said. She reached forward and tucked his hair behind his ear; the movement was soothing, and Kíli closed his eyes. Then, quicker than Kíli could have ever expected, Dís had pulled off his sword, bow, and quiver.

"Hey!" he said angrily. He reached for his weapons, but Dís pulled back.

"See?" she said. "You're so tired, I pulled all of these off before you could react."

"You're just fast," Kíli protested, reaching for his weapons again.

"Go rest," Dís commanded, her voice suddenly hard.

"Mum-"

" _Go!_ "

Kíli glared at his mother for a few moments, heat rising into his face as he clenched his fists. He was angry.  _Irrationally_  angry. He knew that, but he could not stop the rage that made his hands tremble and a whirlwind rush through his ears. His insides wound tighter as he fought the want - the  _need_  - to shout, to run, to get his own way. Dís watched him warily.

"Kíli?" she said, setting his weapons down on the table and stepping towards him.

"Don't," he said with forced calmness. "Don't... just... leave me alone." He muttered the last few words quickly as he stalked off to his bedroom and slammed the door behind him. He threw himself onto the bed and glared up at the ceiling, fuming; suddenly, the overwhelming desire to scream came upon him, and he clenched his teeth, fighting the impulse.

It was too much. Rolling over, Kíli grabbed a pillow and stuffed his face into it. He let out a long, angry scream as tears filled his eyes, and the scream turned into a wail and then he was sobbing, weeping, his tears staining the pillow and his shoulders shaking.  _Overtired_ , said the logical part of his mind, but its cold analysis was overridden by the burning fire that coursed through his veins saying  _I need Fíli back, no one understands, I need my brother, I miss my Fíli._

"Fee," he whispered into the wet pillow, his fingers curling into the fabric. He took a ragged breath. For a few moments, he was quiet, but then the sobbing started again. He felt  _so_  alone. Fíli had always been there for him, through every trouble and trial - but now he was lost to him, and he had scarcely an idea on how to bring him back, if he could at all. Hopelessness settled in his heart then, and he screamed into the pillow, curling his knees up underneath him as he held it tightly. Then he was still, gasping harshly with his forehead pressed into the mattress. He dropped onto his side and hugged the pillow to himself, shaking with now-silent sobs.

A  _creak_  told Kíli that he was not alone, but he did not look to see who was intruding on his misery. He did not care. He couldn't speak, anyway; despite his efforts, he could not stop crying. So he ignored whoever it was, hoping they would go away.

"Kíli," said a familiar deep voice.  _Thorin._  Kíli curled up tighter, a harsh gasp leaving his throat. Let Thorin talk. Nothing he could say would change anything.

There was silence for a long time, so long that Kíli almost forgot that his uncle was there at all. Then, he spoke again:

"Your mother sent me in. She heard you screaming, she said."

Still Kíli gave no reply.

"Are you all right?"

Kíli shook his head and took a hitched breath. Thorin was silent, but Kíli could hear him step closer.

"Is there anything you need?" said Thorin in a strained voice.

"Fíli," Kíli choked out.

Thorin sighed. "Kíli, I promised you that we will figure this out. We  _will_  fix this."

Kíli nodded, and Thorin's hand settled on his shoulder with a reassuring squeeze.

"Now rest. We will form a plan after you have slept. You have my word."

 _That's not good enough,_  Kíli thought, but he stayed silent. Thorin's hand lifted, and his heavy steps left the room.

He was  _so_  tired. Maybe everyone was right. He did need to rest - but how? He had tried to sleep the previous night to no avail, and nothing had changed. He was still troubled and alone.

Kíli tossed aside his damp pillow and reached across the bed for one of his brother's. He stuffed his face into it; the smell of pipe-weed and soap filled his nostrils.  _Fíli._  He still felt alone, but somehow with this familiar smell, the pressing loneliness seemed to lessen, if only a little bit.

And finally,  _finally_ , Kíli fell asleep.

* * *

Rest for Kíli did not last for long.

The first thing Kíli noticed when he awoke was that he felt even worse than he had before. His body felt stiff and his head was heavy; his eyes fought to stay closed, but no relief was found beneath his eyelids. He was awake, then - rested or not.

_Time to do something._

Kíli lifted his head and immediately dropped it back onto the mattress with a groan.  _Mahal, what a headache._  He pressed his temple into his forearm and grimaced.  _Get up,_  he told himself, but his body would not obey. He stayed sprawled on the bed.

He felt sick to his stomach. Was he hungry or nauseous? He couldn't tell. But if this was what sleep did for him, he would rather be up, exhausted or not. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up with a strained groan, bringing one hand up to his forehead. He stayed there for a couple of minutes, hoping the headache would subside, but it stubbornly remained; so he got up and left his room.

No one was in the kitchen, but his weapons were still on the table. He looked around cautiously before tip-toeing over to his gear and strapping it on as quickly and quietly as he could. Then he slipped out the door, looking left and right - no one in sight. He took off in a run for Glóin's house. He had to go, and he had to go  _now_ , and he knew that Gimli would go with him.

Within a few minutes, he had reached his destination, and to his delight, Gimli was already outside. He ran over to him and slapped him on the shoulder.

"Gimli!" he said, breathing heavily. "I need your help."

"Blimey, Kíli, you look terrible," said Gimli, eyeing his cousin with wide eyes.

"I'll be fine," said Kíli dismissively. "Are you busy?"

"No," Gimli replied. "What do you need?"

"We're going back up to the cave," Kíli said. "I'm going to see if I can find what did this to Fíli."

"What makes you think it is there?" said Gimli skeptically.

"It's where we found him," said Kíli pointedly. "Moreover, when I was in there, I could feel something... watching me. You couldn't feel it?"

Gimli thought for a moment. "I did, come to think of it," he said. "It made my hair stand up on end."

"Exactly," Kíli said. "Get your pony. It's a long ride."

"What about yours?" Gimli said.

Kíli straightened and blinked. His pony. How had he forgotten to bring his pony?

"Are you sure you're all right?" said his cousin warily.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," Kíli said absently. "Stay here. I'll be back soon."

GImli gave him a funny look, but he nodded, and Kíli ran off. He made it home in record time; to his relief, no one was out by the stable.  _Where is everyone?_  Kíli thought briefly, but he dismissed the thought in favor of sneaking off before anyone tried to force him back into bed like a child. They _always_  treated him like a child. Kíli scowled as he saddled up Basil and took off to meet up with Gimli, who was ready when he arrived.

"I got food and water," Gimli said, nodding at his saddlebag.

Kíli looked at his cousin blankly. Food and water -  _of course._  He was forgetting everything!

"Right. Good," he said. "Yes. All right, let's go, then."

"Kíli, are you sure?" said Gimli, looking his cousin over with a furrowed brow.

"I'm  _fine_!" Kíli snapped. "Let's  _go_."

Gimli sighed, but he said no more, and the two young dwarves took off.

* * *

"Do you remember where it was?"

"You found it first, Kíli."

"I could have  _sworn_  it was around here..."

Kíli turned his pony around and scanned his surroundings. Surely he could not have lost an entire cave. He was tired, but he wasn't  _that_  tired. It had to be  _somewhere_.

"How long did it take us to get home?" Kíli said.

"I don't know," said Gimli. "A couple of hours, I think."

"I thought this was the spot," Kíli mused. He turned back towards the north. "Maybe it's further up."

"There was a stream flowing out of it," Gimli said.

"Have you seen a stream yet?"

"No."

"Let's keep riding then."

The two moved on silently, each caught up in his own thoughts. Several more minutes brought no results, and Kíli's gut began to burn with frustration.

"It  _has_  to be around here somewhere!" Kíli said. His head was pounding steadily, further fouling his mood. He pulled out his waterskin and drank, hoping for a respite from the ache, but none came. He cursed.

"We could split up," Gimli suggested. "We might find it faster."

"Good idea," Kíli said. "I'll go further up. You keep checking around here."

Without waiting for a reply, Kíli kicked Basil into a gallop and was soon far away, a faint  _Wait!_  trailing behind him.

He was definitely feeling the exhaustion now, but a dogged determination kept him going. Everyone else seemed slow and unconcerned about his brother's condition.  _Go rest. We'll make a plan._  Kíli scowled. There wasn't  _time_  for such things.  _Action_  was required - and if he was the only one willing to do so, then so be it.

Kíli stopped and looked behind; Gimli was just visible, a small dot far away. Then he looked ahead. Surely the cave had to be close. He squinted and scanned the surrounding area. The sun was setting in the west, casting long shadows from the mountains, and already it seemed quite dark. His mother and his uncle would kill him, but he had yet to care about that.

Then he saw it.

Further on ahead, a small stream was flowing out of a cave that looked horribly familiar.  _Ah, yes._  Now that he saw it, the memory came flooding back, bringing with it a shiver as he thought of his brother inside, cold and unconscious on the stone floor. He turned and waved at Gimli, who had moved a little bit closer.

"Gimli!" he shouted. "I've found it! Hurry!"

When his cousin started heading his direction, he turned back and pushed Basil onwards, reaching the cave in less than a minute. He hopped off his pony and patted her neck reassuringly, for she was shying away from the entrance nervously.

"Steady, girl," he said. "It's all right."

Basil tossed her head in response; Kíli could feel how tense she was. If he were honest with himself, he was tense, too; the sick feeling he had felt last time he was here had returned, and he recognized it as a deep sense of foreboding. There were many dark and foul things in the world, and he imagined that many would make Dwarf, Man, or Elf feel such a thing.

He looked back to Gimli impatiently. The younger dwarf was on his way, but he was moving too slowly for Kíli's taste. He would catch up soon enough. Kíli patted Basil again and then unsheathed his sword, holding it at the ready. He was going in now, accompanied or not.

The moment he stepped into the cave, his hair stood on end and his heart inexplicably began to pound. He swallowed and tightened his grip on his sword. He could feel those eyes on him.

"Hello?" he called out, wincing at the small sound of his own voice. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Is anyone there?"

A sound surrounded him then - a raspy, hissing noise that seemed to come from every direction at once. He gasped and whirled around, but he saw nothing; it was too dark.  _A torch._  Kíli cursed his absent-mindedness. Why hadn't he thought to bring a torch?

"Who are you?" he called out, failing miserably at keeping the quiver out of his voice.

"First a yellow one, and now a dark one," said a thin, raspy voice from nowhere. "Have you come to light a little fire, too?"

"I've come looking for you, actually," he said. A warm fire was beginning to flow through him - courage, but also anger. The thing was laughing - _laughing!_  - at him, a hissing, gurgling sound, unpleasant to the ears.

"Do you think this is  _funny_?" he shouted, swinging his sword as he whirled again. "My brother doesn't even remember who he is! What did you do to him?"

The voice was silent for a few moments. Then, it said: "Tell me, dark dwarf. What is a... brother?"

To his left, a movement caught Kíli's eye, and he turned to face it, sheathing his sword and pulling out his bow quick as lightning. He pointed his arrow at the movement, but he saw nothing.

"Show yourself!" Kíli said, his breath coming out in a gasp.  _I should have waited for Gimli._

"I asked a question," said the voice, crackling dangerously.

"We... we come from the same mother and father," Kíli said, his voice thick with fear. "Like birds that come from the same nest."

"I see," said the voice. That hissing, gurgling sound again. "And what have you come to me for, dark dwarf?"

"Whatever you did to my brother - I want you to reverse it," he said. "Please. Just - change him back."

The laughter that followed was raucous and grating, and Kíli almost dropped his bow at the sound, grimacing.

"Change him  _back_?" said the voice, "But, why, I did not  _change_  him at all!"

"What did you do to him, then?" Kíli cried.

Something cold touched his back then, and he turned to face it; when he did, his breath stopped in his throat and his bow dropped from his hands. Before him stood a tall, writhing creature with black, hollow spaces in place of eyes; its teeth were grey and sharp, and of its skin Kíli could not guess the texture, whether it be rotting flesh or the substance of ashes. It shimmered in a dark way, its claws extended out towards its next victim.

"This," it said.

Cold, clawed fingers rested on either side of Kíli's face, and a terror greater than any he had ever known flooded through him like an icy river. The walls seemed to close in around him, shining with sickly colors and oozing with something - Kíli did not know what. A scream was ripped from his throat as his entire body began to shake violently and his knees gave out; he crashed to the ground, still screaming, he couldn't stop screaming. Horrible images flew through his head, each forgotten as the next took shape, but the terror remained. Whatever he had known or thought before disappeared in a veil before his eyes as all his senses were overwhelmed with a single sensation of  _fear_ , everything was horror and he could not escape, he was going to  _die_ like this-

Somewhere far away, Kíli could hear a deep, guttural roar, and he screamed again, covering his ears and curling into a ball. The cold fingers left his face, but the cold inside him remained, and he cried out. A high, shrill shriek filtered into his senses, and he shrieked back. Then big, calloused hands were on him, pulled at him. He fought against them violently, but they had him tightly, and then he was moving, kicking and screaming though he was, until he lay against something warm and soft, though he could not see it. He was blind -  _blind!_  He curled himself up as tightly as he could and hid his face in his arms, shuddering and weeping. A hand reached through his arms and touched his face.

" _No!_ " he screamed, batting the hand away and rolling onto his other side. The hand came at him again, and he recoiled.

He suddenly became aware of a deep voice trying to speak to him - a familiar voice. He stopped, gasping wildly, and listened.

"...not going to hurt you! Kíli, stop screaming! It's me! It's Gimli!"

 _Gimli._  He knew that name, but he couldn't place it. A fresh wave of terror went through him, and he shuddered and wailed.

"You fool, you _fool_ , you  _damned fool_!" said the familiar voice. "You should have waited for me! You should have waited!"

Kíli hid beneath his arms and said nothing as panicked sobs he could not stop left him. What had he done? He could not remember.

"And now your pony has bolted," continued the voice. "You won't be able to walk, will you?"

Kíli's eyes opened wide, and he took in a sharp gasp. Walk to  _where_?  _From_  where? The realization struck him that he had no idea where he was or why he was there. He grabbed his hair and pulled, his mind racing as he struggled to latch onto any memory,  _anything_ , in the inky blackness of his mind.

 _Gimli._  The voice was Gimli. He thought hard, searching for  _Gimli_  in the abyss. Suddenly he caught it. HIs cousin - his friend.  _Yes._  He blinked and swallowed, and the world cleared a bit around him. A young, red-haired dwarf knelt before him, his expression taut.

"G-Gimli?" he said.

"Yes," Gimli said. "It's me. Are you all right?'

Kíli shook his head. "Where are we?" he said.

A trepidatious look crossed Gimli's face. "You don't remember?"

Again, Kíli shook his head. A single bird chirped, and he jumped and covered his ears, gasping.

"We need to get you home," Gimli said. "You can ride my pony. I'll just have to walk." The young dwarf pulled up his older cousin and swung Kíli's arm over his shoulders. Kíli leaned into him with shaky legs and followed where he was led. Gimli helped him onto the pony clumsily, and then began to lead them south.

"W-where are we going?" asked Kíli behind chattering teeth.

"Home," Gimli said.

Kíli could not picture  _home_ , but he knew the word, and it was a comforting one. So he sad silent and trembling, darkness swirling through his mind as the sun set over the mountains.


	9. Blank

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a bonus bit in the notes at the end! Go read it - it's from Thorin's POV!

_Fear_  had never been so real.

As darkness fell over the Blue Mountains, the oppressive shadow over Kíli's mind grew closer and heavier. Every sudden movement was another monster lurking just out of sight; every sudden sound was like a clanging cymbal, making the terrified dwarf jump and cry out. There was no respite for Kíli – only a growing unsettling feeling and darkness where memories should have been.

Gimli tried to speak to him at first, but his voice was nothing more than a rushing wind in Kíli's ears, causing only further confusion and fear. After a while, he fell silent, leading his pony on gently as Kíli sat pale and shaking upon its back. It had already been dark for over an hour by the time Kíli and Gimli reached their village, and the place was lit by lanterns and yellow windows under the moonlight. Gimli patted Kíli's leg lightly, and Kíli jumped and yelped.

"Kíli – we're home," Gimli said softly. "Do you remember home?"

Kíli shook his head mutely, trembling. There were so many houses… so many  _people_. His breath hitched in his throat.

"Can't," he whimpered.

"What was that, Kíli?" said Gimli.

"C-can't," Kíli repeated, a little louder.

"Can't what?" Gimli said, stopping the pony and looking up at his cousin with a furrowed brow.

"Th-there are too many – too many people," Kíli said. "Can't, I can't, I'm – I'm scared." He leaned forward and buried his face in his hands, too afraid to even be ashamed. His teeth clattered in his head; already, he was on the verge of tears. He wished for some comfort, but in his blank memory, such a luxury had been lost. He was alone.

"Kíli—"

"Gimli! Kíli! Is that you?" called a deep, rough voice from the darkness. Kíli froze at the unfamiliar voice, petrified, but Gimli called back:

"Father? Thorin?"

Kíli, with his face hidden in his hands, could not see the strangers approach, but he heard them running closer. His heart pounded and his breath came in panicked gasps; Gimli laid a hand on his knee, and he moaned.

"What on  _earth_  were you two thinking?" Thorin shouted. "Running off without a word, disappearing until after dark – We have been searching for you since dusk! I want an explanation,  _now_!"

"Father, Thorin, wait—" Gimli began, but Thorin cut him short.

"I want to hear from Kíli," Thorin said. "You are in trouble with Glóin as it is, but I am sure that this was my nephew's idea. It always is."

"But—"

"Kíli! Look at me!" Thorin barked.

Kíli bowed lower and let out a sob. What was going on? What had he done?

"Kíli!" Thorin said again. A hand grasped Kíli's wrist, and he screamed, yanking his arm away and stumbling off the pony. He fell, landing on his rear, then scrambled to his feet and ran. Footsteps pursued him, and he sprinted, blinded by terror; then arms wrapped around him, locking his own arms to his sides and knocking him to the ground. He screamed again and fought against his attacker, struggling to get free to no avail. Within moments he was pinned.

" _No!_ " he wailed, still blindly struggling. A hand covered his mouth, and he screamed into it.

"For Mahal's sake, Kíli!" said Thorin. "What in Durin's name is wrong with you?"

"He doesn't remember you!" Gimli shouted.

Thorin paused. "What do you mean?" he said.

"We went to the cave," Gimli said. "Where we found Fíli. The thing that got him – Fíli – it was still there. I tried to get Kíli to wait, but he went in without me, and – and I don't know, Thorin. He was screaming so much… I attacked the creature, but I was too late."

Thorin looked down at his nephew, who had fallen limp and hopeless under his grip, silent tears trailing down the sides of his face. Their eyes met briefly, and Kíli hiccupped tearfully. Thorin's deep blue eyes were wide.

"No," he whispered.

"I'm sorry, Thorin – I'm so sorry," said Gimli. "I tried to rescue him, but it seems that the deed has been done."

Thorin bowed his head, but he kept a firm grip on his youngest nephew.

"Has he been violent?" he said thickly.

"Only as you've seen," Gimli said. "I don't think he is as badly affected. He recognized me after a while."

Thorin's eyes snapped back to his nephew's face, glittering with hope. "Kíli, do you know who I am?" he said.

"Please," Kíli whimpered. "Please, don't – please."

"Kíli," Thorin breathed, stricken. He studied Kili's face carefully, searching for any sign of recognition, but Kili merely stared back, breathing quickly and laboriously. When Kili's expression did not change, Thorin bowed his head and remained still and quiet for a long time; when he looked up again, his expression was hard.

"We have to get him home," he said. "Glóin, Gimli – help me get him back on the pony." He stood up, pulling Kíli up by his wrists. Kíli pulled back, a fresh wave of terror coursing through him.

"Where are you taking me?" he cried. "Please, I – I don't have anything you need, I don't know anything – no, please!"

Kíli cried out and fought against the three pairs of hands that tried to pull him back on the pony, twisting this way and that and slipping from their arms expertly. Gimli's pony shied away from the commotion, and after several attempts, the others gave up on their endeavor. Thorin held Kíli in a tight grip, his arms under his nephew's armpits and hands joined behind the dark head. Kíli wept, confused and terrified and breathing hard.

"Glóin – blindfold him," Thorin said.

Kíli started and wailed, but he could not escape Thorin's hard grip. Why were they blindfolding him? What were they going to do to him?

"Why?" said Gimli.

"Works on animals," said Glóin. "Calms them – makes them cooperative. Might work on Kíli, too." He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and stepped closer to his cousin; the young dwarf tried to jerk his head away, but Thorin had him tight.

Kíli cried bewildered tears as Glóin tied the handkerchief over his eyes. He was stuck. He was caught. He was at their mercy. With this realization, he gave up completely and slumped, his weight only supported by Thorin's strong arms holding him up. Then he was lifted into the air and set back on the pony, and the small party of dwarves moved on.

Kíli cried the rest of the way home.

* * *

"Please – please—"

"Quiet."

Kíli let out a whimper, but otherwise was quiet as Thorin lifted him off the pony and set him on the ground. He stumbled, his balance thrown off by his lack of sight, and Thorin steadied him; he recoiled from his uncle's touch, but Thorin did not let go. Instead, he pushed him forward.

"Walk."

Kíli obeyed, sniffling, as he was led into a building; it smelled familiar inside, but he couldn't quite place it. He searched his mind, but nothing came to light. Dísheartened, a sob left him, and he would have collapsed, had Thorin not caught him.

"That's enough of that," Thorin muttered, and with one smooth movement, he had picked up his nephew and was carrying him in his arms. Kíli did not fight. How could he? He was still blindfolded, and this gruff stranger was stronger than he. He felt himself being lowered onto something soft – a couch, it seemed – and then the stranger was speaking.

"Kíli."

Kíli turned his head in the direction of the voice morosely.

"I'm going to take off the blindfold now.  _Please_  do not run."

Kíli sobbed in response.

"All right," said Thorin, and then Kíli could see again. The stranger –  _Thorin…_  the name was familiar – knelt before him, the hardness he had displayed before completely gone. Behind him stood Gimli and the one Gimli had called  _Father._  Kíli must have a father, too. Where was his father? Maybe – just maybe—

"A-are you my father?" Kíli said to Thorin.

Gimli and Glóin gasped behind Thorin, and the blue-eyed dwarf's mouth dropped open as he blinked rapidly, staring at his nephew in disbelief. Then he turned back to Gimli and Glóin.

"Find Dís," he said. "Bring her home."

"What about Kíli?" said Gimli.

"I've got him," Thorin said. "Find my sister. Quickly."

Gimli and Glóin left, and Thorin turned back to Kíli, eyes shining.

"I'm not your father, Kíli," Thorin said gently. "Don't you know who I am?"

Kíli shook his head, his heart sinking. He was clearly  _supposed_  to remember this dwarf, but the memory eluded him. When all he could do was stare blankly at the stranger before him, Thorin reached out to him; but his hands changed to sharp grey claws, and terror gripped Kíli's heart as those claws touched his face.

"No!" Kíli screamed, ripping his face out of Thorin's grip and diving off the couch. He tried to run out the door, but Thorin caught him again, so he threw himself on the floor.

"Please, no, no no no no  _no_ …" He continued in this way, crawling to a corner of the room and hiding his face in his knees, his arms folded over his legs.

Then Thorin was kneeling beside him. Kíli curled away from him, continuing his pleas, but Thorin did not heed him, reaching out again.

" _Please!_ " Kíli begged in a hoarse, agonized scream – a scream that came from his very core, echoing off the walls filled with unspeakable anguish and terror that blackened all memories of joy or love or peace and drowned him in a bottomless ocean of loss and misery.

But still he was not heeded. Two hands came in contact with his face, and he screamed wordlessly, knowing all too well of the terror to come. Hoarse cries erupted from him over and over and he could not stop them, all of his senses overwhelmed by the paralyzing fear that coursed through his veins. Thorin did not let go – he only gripped Kíli's head tighter and pulled him into his chest, shifting one hand to filter into the hair on the back of his nephew's head and the other to wrap an arm around his shoulders.

"It's all right!" he shouted over Kíli's screams. "It's  _all right!_  Listen to me, Kíli! It's not happening again! You're safe now! You are  _safe!_ "

The longer Thorin held Kíli, the more Kíli realized that he was right – no terrifying images flashed through his mind. The hands that held him were warm and even comforting – not cold and clawed. His screams finally died away, their place taken by distressed, heavy sobs that shook both dwarves. The hand on the back of Kíli's head began to stroke his hair gently.

"That's it," said Thorin. "It's me. You remember me, don't you?"

Kíli shook his head. He knew that he  _should_  know Thorin, but he could not place him in his mind. Thorin's hand stopped in his hair.

"You  _must_  remember me… Kíli… please."

The front door suddenly slammed open then, and Kíli started. Footsteps approached the living room, and Kíli cowered into Thorin with a moan. He closed his eyes tight and willed away this new terror, wishing he could truly find comfort in this familiar stranger's embrace, but as the steps came closer, a high-pitched whine sounded from his throat.

"Kíli!" said a feminine voice. Kíli froze; he knew  _that_  voice. He pulled away from Thorin and looked up, seeking more information to fill in the blanks, and as soon as he saw her face, he  _knew_.

"Mum," he choked out.

"Oh, Kíli," said Dís, rushing forward and kneeling beside her brother and her son. "Gimli said you wouldn't recognize me. Are you all right? You're pale as death!"

"Mum, what's going on?" Kíli said with wide eyes.

"Here, Thorin, let me have him," said Dís, reaching out for her youngest. Thorin, who had suddenly gone stiff, relinquished his hold on Kíli, the brunet dove into his mother's waiting arms and nestled into her like a child. Instantly, Thorin stood and left the room, startling Kíli again.

"Thorin!" Dís called, but he had already rounded the corner and was out of sight. Dís turned her attention back to Kíli.

"There, love, calm down," Dís said gently. "You're safe now. Relax."

Try as he might, Kíli could not stop the trembling that plagued him, nor could he keep the tears from rolling down his face. The fear he felt seemed etched into his heart, clinging tenaciously to every fiber of his being. He clung to Dís and closed his eyes, soaking up every ounce of comfort his mother could offer – but it wasn't enough. A flash of a terrifying memory went through his mind, and he cried out.

"What's wrong, Kíli?" said Dís.

"I – I don't know," Kíli said. "I don't – I can't remember—"

"Hush, then," said Dís. "Come into the kitchen. Let me make you some tea."

"I-is this home?" Kíli asked timidly.

Dís was silent for a long moment.

"Yes, Kíli," she said finally. "This is home."

"Where is my Da, then? Is he home?" Kíli said. He felt like he should know the answer, but it evaded him once again.

Dís stiffened and pulled Kíli close, dropping a kiss on the top of his head.

"Never mind that, love," she said in a broken voice. "Come with me."

Kíli obediently followed his mother into the kitchen on trembling legs, refusing to let go of her hand. She set him down at the table, and he sat quietly, save for the occasional sniffle, as Dís prepared him a cup of tea.

"Where is Gimli?" Kíli asked after several minutes.

"He went home with his father," said Dís.

"Oh," Kíli said.  _His father._  What about his own father? Try as he might, he could not bring up any memories, and he grunted, pushing the heels of his hands into his eyelids. This was so  _wrong_. There were so many things that he knew he should remember, but all was dark in his mind. As he sniffled again, Dís's hands landed on his shoulders, and he yelped.

"It's all right – it's just me," she said. "Sorry. What's the matter, Kíli?"

"I don't know what's happened to me," Kíli said tearfully. "Everything is just  _dark_ … I'm so confused, I'm so – I'm so  _scared_ , and I don't even know why!"

Dís crouched down and pulled her son into a tight hug, and Kíli returned the embrace, weeping into her shoulder. The kettle began to whistle, and she pulled back and wiped the tears off Kíli's face with a sad smile.

"Let me get you some tea now," she said, untangling herself from his arms. "It'll make you feel better."

Kíli watched her prepare the tea, his breath hitching as he tried and failed to calm down. What was  _wrong_  with him? He buried his face in his hands.

The soft  _clink_  of the mug hitting wood made him start. He looked up to see a steaming cup of tea before him, and he reached out for it with a shaking hand.

"It will help you sleep," she said. "Don't worry, it's not one of Óin's concoctions. The tea tastes fine."

Kíli did not know who Óin was, but the tea looked good. He looped his fingers into the handle and took a sip; the tea  _was_  good, albeit a bit too hot. Shivers continued to run through Kíli's body as he drank, but Dís was there, rubbing his back in small circles. When he had finished, she took the mug from him and set it in the sink.

"It's getting late," she said. "Come, let's get you in bed."

Kíli nodded, and Dís assisted him in standing to his feet and led him to his bedroom. She helped him out of his outer clothes wordlessly; then, Kíli sat on the bed, taking quick, short breaths. A sudden twinge on his left side surprised him, and he grunted and slapped a hand over his ribs.

"What is it?" Dís said, glancing at Kíli's hand warily. "Are you hurt?"

"I don't know," Kíli said. "It – it hurt for a moment. Like a sharp pain."

"Let me see," said Dís, kneeling before him. He lifted up his tunic and looked down at his torso; a scar ran across his left side. He stared at it, confused. What had happened there? He ran two fingers across the raised white flesh, then looked up at his mother. She was staring at the scar with wide eyes.

"Mum?" Kíli said.

"Is that where it hurts?" Dís said, her voice suddenly tight.

"Well, underneath, and not anymore, but yes," Kíli answered in a small voice, alarmed by his mother's reaction. "…Am I going to be all right?"

Dís closed her eyes and pursed her lips with a deep sigh. Then she opened her eyes again and tugged down Kíli's tunic.

"You will be just fine," she said warmly, offering Kíli a comforting smile that almost reached her eyes. "Lay down and rest."

Kíli obediently settled down onto the mattress, watching his mother with growing anxiety. She kissed his forehead and stroked his hair, then turned off the lantern burning at the bedside and left the room.

In the sudden darkness, everything changed. All the terror that had started to wane with his mother's arrival flooded back at once, manifesting itself in imagined cold, grating laughter and a spinning sensation that had Kíli gripping the sheets tightly. He screamed as cold, clawed hands reached out and tore at his arms, his legs, his hair, his chest, and he lashed out against the monsters that haunted him.  _I'm alone I'm alone oh help me I'm going to die someone help me_ please _oh please—_

Real hands – warm hands – latched onto him then, but in his state, they were just another monster pulling him down into the earth to his death. He beat against them blindly, crying out. A second pair of hands joined the first, stopping his legs and the first pair of hands grabbed his wrists. An agonized scream left him as he tried to turn over and curl up, but he was stuck in place. His head was lifted up, and he crashed into a body that smelled of woodsmoke and soap and berries.  _Mum._  Instantly he stopped struggling and pressed his face into the space between her chin and her collarbone, his hands stuck between their bodies as she wrapped her strong arms tightly around his trembling shoulders.

"Please… please don't go," Kíli said. He was crying again. He felt as if he had been crying his entire life.

"I'll stay here all night if you need me to," she said into the top of his head. Kíli let out a soft, throaty hum and nestled into his mother's arms, pulling his knees up and leaning his full weight into her. He felt the mattress move as another dwarf's weight lifted from it, and he cowered, unsure of who the intruder was, but too comfortable to look. No footsteps followed, and Kíli listened curiously.

"Tomorrow, brother," Dís said. "Try again tomorrow. Not tonight."

Kíli heard a heavy sigh, and then purposeful footsteps left the room. Then there was a  _click_ , and Kíli and Dís were alone.

Dís began to hum, a soft, lilting tune that seemed comforting and familiar, but Kíli could not place it. Still, it relaxed him, and he let his racing mind rest as he focused on the simple melody. Soon he was yawning into his mother's neck, and he felt a small chuckle hop in her chest. Then fatigue overtook him; he gave into it quickly and drifted off into a deep but troubled sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BONUS CONTENT: When Thorin abruptly leaves the room, this is what happens. A tiny tidbit for you.
> 
> \--
> 
> Thorin sat down hard on the edge of his bed and dropped his head into his hands. Kíli's words rang through his head, crashing into his skull and making him wince with each repetition. _Please. Don't. No._ He _cowered_ before his uncle. He was _afraid_ of him.
> 
> If there was one thing in all the world that Thorin never, ever wanted to happen, this was it.
> 
> A choked sob left Thorin's lips as he buried his face further into his hands. He knew he had seemed cold and impassive to his family about what had happened to Fíli, but the truth was that he had barely been able to keep his composure since Kíli had brought his older brother home unconscious. The only strength he had in him was found in being weathered by over a century of grief and pain, and the comfort that though Fíli was compromised, at least he was _alive_. There _had_ to be some way to fix this.
> 
> But now Kíli, too. _Foolish boy,_ Thorin thought, grinding his palms into his eyelids. _You should have stayed. You should have waited._ He held his breath, trying to keep in the sob that was trying so hard to escape him; but he lost against the weight of his grief, and a deep, heavy groan escaped from his core into the air. Not Kíli. Not his cheerful, hardheaded, dark-haired little nephew who tried so hard to be an adult but hadn't quite figured it out yet. Thorin had never before heard such fear in his voice or such terror in his eyes, and it had ripped him apart inside.
> 
>  _He doesn't even know who I am._ That alone was enough to break the strong, stoic dwarf who had already been through so much. _He knew Dís, and he knew Gimli... but he didn't know me._ How was such a thing possible? He could remember his cousin, but not the uncle who had raised him in the place of a father? Jealousy burned through him. Of course he would recognize his mother, but _Gimli_. What about his _uncle_?
> 
> Thorin could still feel the weight of Kíli's head against his chest. When he had let go of his nephew, the pressure had remained, and now it threatened to crush his heart. He had been so close - _so close_ to being a comfort to Kíli, but in the end, he could not give what Kíli needed, and he turned to another. He could not receive what he needed from Thorin's embrace, and though the old dwarf knew that he was not Kíli's father and he could not take the place of his mother, the rejection hurt all the same. He had been forgotten - cast aside. He put one hand over his heart - where Kíli had been moments before - and pushed his forehead into the palm of his other hand, gritting his teeth.
> 
> Thorin had lost both of his nephews, and the weight was too much to bear.
> 
> Silent sobs shook the broad shoulders of the old, burdened dwarf and tears rolled down his cheeks as he gave in to the anguish in his heart. He was not a king. He was no longer an uncle. He would never be a father.
> 
> He was nothing.


	10. Darkness

A gentle breeze stirred the dark hair on Kíli's face, tickling the bridge of his nose and rousing him from his sleep. He blinked the fatigue out of his eyes and stretched, reaching out for his mother; when he touched nothing but air on all sides, he bolted upright with a gasp.

"It's all right, Kíli," said Dís from his left. "I'm here."

Kíli turned his head and saw her by the window, and his shoulders slumped, the initial anxiety leaving him. Dís sat down on the bed and smiled.

"How are you feeling this morning?" she said.

Kíli looked down at his hands gathered in his lap. "I'm not shaking anymore," he said. He pressed his palms into his temples and closed his eyes. "But there's this – this tightness in my chest, and it won't go away." He gritted his teeth as he fought back a wave of fear that tried to crash over him; Dís took his hands in hers and pulled them away from his face.

"Kíli," she said gently. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Kíli's shining brown eyes met the deep blue of his mother's. In those eyes he could see a deep care and concern, but there was something else there, too – a sadness and a fear that confused him. Was she worried for him? No – that look said something else, and a small spark went off in his mind that told him that he knew why. But as quickly as the spark had come, it died, leaving Kíli in the impenetrable darkness without flint or tinder, and he simply shook his head.

"I – I don't know what happened," he said. "I know I should, but I don't."

"I won't push you, then," Dís said. "Dwalin told me what happened when—" She stopped, and her eyes widened. Kíli stared at her, perplexed.

"What is it, Mum?" he said, trying to find  _Dwalin_  in his memory.

Dís pressed her lips together and squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head. Then she met Kíli's gaze with a wan smile.

"Never mind," she said. "Come, get up and I'll make us some breakfast."

Shadows began to stir in Kíli's mind, fighting to creep into the light, but at the moment, there was nothing. Kíli swallowed back his growing unease and nodded, throwing off his covers. He stood up and stumbled, but he caught himself before he fell. Dís's hand was suddenly on his back, and he jumped; she rubbed his shoulder blades gently, and he relaxed.  _You are safe,_  he told himself.  _You are home. You are safe._

But something didn't feel quite right. Something was missing…

"Kíli, come on," said Dís.

Kíli obediently made his way into the kitchen and sat down at the table. As Dís busied herself pulling together a meal for her son, he studied his surroundings, searching for anything that would bring back memories. Yes – this was home; he could recognize that now – but it felt empty somehow. He looked at the chairs around the table. There were four, counting the one he sat upon, and he knew that the number was right. Him, Dís… and who else?

"Mum?" he said.

"Yes, my love?"

"Who else lives here?"

When no response came, Kíli turned to look at his mother. She stood leaning on the counter with both hands, looking down. Kíli's stomach lurched and his heart began to pound.  _What's wrong? What did I do?_

"Mum?" he said, an edge of panic in his voice.

Dís spun around and tried to smile, but it was wan and insincere, almost pained. She took a deep breath and cleared her throat, and Kíli could clearly tell that she was trying to hide her distress as she leaned silently against the counter, avoiding his eye. What had happened? An icy chill of panic trickled down from the top of Kíli's head down through his entire body, and his hands began to shake again.

"Mum, what's happened?" he cried, frozen in his seat. Dís simply shook her head, still refusing to look at him, and Kíli heard a rushing wind start through his ears.

"Dís, are you all right?" came a deep, rough voice from the hall. Kíli yelped and covered his head with his arms, his nose touching the table, and stayed there, trembling.

"I'm fine," came Dís's shaky reply. "I'm all right."

"Kíli?" said the same deep voice, and large hands touched his shoulders. Kíli flinched, but he didn't move, petrified.

"Thorin, you're scaring him," Dís said; the hands lifted from his shoulders, and he let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding.  _Thorin._  Why couldn't he remember him?

"I live here too, Kíli," Thorin said. Kíli looked up at him, eyebrows raised. Thorin took a seat and sat rigidly, watching Kíli study his face, but still he found no answers. Frustration burned in Kíli's chest, and he looked down at the table, tracing the grain of the wood with a trembling finger. He glanced at the fourth chair.

"And my father?"

Kíli did not have to look up to know that Thorin and Dís were both staring at him; he could feel their eyes. Their silence was unnerving, and Kíli bit his lip, fighting against the fear that tried to grip him. He returned to tracing the grain on the table while he waited for a reply.

"Kíli, your – your father… he died a long time ago," said Dís finally. "You were still a baby."

Kíli's head shot up and his eyes widened. His Da?  _Dead_? A sinking feeling dropped down through Kíli's stomach and tears sprang to his eyes as Dís's words sunk in. He heard the distant sound of someone calling his name, but he slowly shook his head and ignored the voice.

This couldn't be true. He didn't want it to be true. But he knew it was; his memory of his father wasn't  _missing_  at all. He didn't even  _have_  memories in the first place. He balled his hands into fists and bowed low, sick with frustration and grief.  _But I_ want _a father,_  he thought.  _I_ need _a father._  He could feel the aching, empty place in his heart growing stronger as his grief grew heavier. Even if he could remember everything that he had ever known in his entire life, there would still be a blank, empty space where a father should be.

"Kíli, are you all right?" said Thorin gently.

"Who are  _you_ , then?" Kíli burst out tearfully. He couldn't figure it out. He lived here with them, and though Kíli could not explain why, there seemed to be some kind of steadfast strength that emanated from his being and brought him inexplicable comfort. If he wasn't his father, who could he possibly be?

"Kíli…" Thorin whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. He stood and stepped forward, his expression raw with grief, and squatted down to Kíli's level. He reached out with both hands, and Kíli flinched; Thorin drew back and looked into his eyes pleadingly.

"I'm your uncle," he said. "Your Uncle Thorin. Don't you remember me?"

Kíli glanced from Thorin to Dís, seeking confirmation, and Dís nodded. He slowly turned his gaze back to his uncle and stared, searching as hard as he could in the darkness of his thoughts for something, anything, to latch on to, but nothing came to light. He wanted so  _desperately_  to remember, to know this old, dark-haired dwarf with piercing blue eyes, and to be free of this oppressive fear that clung to his insides like a stubborn frost. He  _needed_  to remember.

"Help me, please," Kíli whispered.

Thorin stared at Kíli with wide eyes, a thousand thoughts and emotions flickering within his deep blue gaze in the span of a moment. His mouth opened and closed as he stuttered.

"I – I don't know how," he admitted finally.

" _Please_ ," Kíli begged. "Try something – anything. I just want to remember."

Thorin swallowed and nodded. He leaned towards Kíli with a sudden jerking motion, and Kíli gasped and jumped back, his heart pounding.

"It's all right," Thorin said. "I will not hurt you. You have my word."

Kíli nodded and tried to control his breathing, but each breath was coming in faster than the last, and his fingertips and his nose and lips were starting to tingle. Thorin reached out again, and before Kíli could pull away, his hands were on his face; Kíli let out an involuntary shriek, but Thorin pulled him forward until their temples met and held him there. Kíli moaned and tried to escape as half-memories of terrifying visions danced in his head, but Thorin held fast, keeping silent.  _Uncle Thorin,_  Kíli said to himself.  _He will not hurt me. He gave his word._  But still he could not stop himself from hyperventilating as that cold fear clung to him just as fiercely as Thorin did. His uncle's thumbs began to move, gently stroking his cheekbones. The comforting motion made Kili relax slightly, so unlike the cold hands that he remembered from before.

"I'm not your father, my boy," Thorin said evenly over his nephew's hysterical gasping, "but I have always done my best to be one to you.  _Think_ , Kíli. Remember me."

Kíli grunted and squeezed his eyes shut.  _I can do this,_  he told himself.  _He won't hurt me, he's my uncle, I have an uncle._

"Uncle Thorin," he mouthed, fighting the fear and forcing himself to think. "Uncle Thorin. Uncle Thorin. Uncle Thorin…"

"That's right, Kíli," said Thorin. "I know you can do this."

Kíli let out a frustrated sob and shook his head slowly. "I can't – I can't," he said.

Thorin pulled away and looked into Kíli's eyes, his own lit with a pure blue flame.

"Yes, you can," he said.

"But I  _can't_ ," Kíli protested, his voice cracking.

Thorin searched the air for memories; then, snatching one, he turned his gaze back to Kíli.

"I taught you how to use a bow," he said. "Do you remember?"

A shadow stirred in Kíli's mind, and he blinked rapidly, keeping his eyes fixed on Thorin. His uncle seized upon the recognition in Kíli's eyes and continued.

"Your b- others said a bow wasn't very proper. Very dwarven. But we knew better, eh? Not everything is close range. A bow comes in handy. Do you remember me saying that?"

Kíli nodded, his brow furrowed as a dim memory crept out of the darkness, but its shape still could not be seen. A smile twitched on Thorin's lips.

"And the first time you hit a target right on the bull's-eye – I was so proud. Do you remember what I said to you?"

"'You have the makings of a great warrior, Kíli,'" said Kíli automatically, and half a moment later, the full memory followed.  _Thorin. Uncle._  Standing tall over a tiny, dark-haired dwarfling with an equally tiny bow, pride shining in his eyes as they stood before a perfectly shot target. He had been so happy in that moment. The corners of his lips twitched upwards, and soon a broad grin spread across his face as the floodgates opened and memories came rushing back. Sword training with Thorin and Dwalin; studying books with Balin; scraps of other memories with other kin. He  _remembered._

A bright smile lit up Thorin's face at the look of recognition on Kíli's face, and he pulled his nephew into a crushing hug. Kíli immediately returned the embrace, clinging tightly to his uncle as part of the fear in his heart dissipated.

"Uncle," he said into Thorin's shoulder.

"You did it, Kíli," said Thorin joyously. "I knew you could, my boy."

Suddenly Kíli's rush of memories hit a dark wall, and he stiffened, his fingers curling into the fabric of Thorin's tunic as he gasped.

"Kíli, what's wrong?" said Dís. Thorin attempted to pull away, but Kíli held on tight and dropped his head onto his uncle's shoulder.

"Something is still missing," he said. "Something important. I can feel it."

"Let me go, lad," said Thorin gently, and Kíli relinquished his hold on his uncle. The old dwarf held him at arm's length by the shoulders and studied his face.

"What do you remember?" he said.

"N-nothing – I-I mean – I'm not sure," Kíli said. "I remember lots of things… You, Mum, Balin, Dwalin, Glóin... our family and friends – it's coming back, I think. But something is missing, and I don't know what."

Thorin turned and caught Dís's eye; they exchanged wary glances, and Kíli narrowed his eyes.

"Are you keeping something from me?" he said.

Both siblings quickly looked back to Kíli.

"You've been through enough stress for today, my love," said Dís. "And you haven't even had breakfast. Come, let us all eat together, hm?"

 _They're hiding something._  He could see it in their eyes. But even as the shadows moved behind that dark wall, nothing further came forth, and Kíli tried to put it out of his mind. Pressing closer to those hidden memories only made him anxious and afraid, and he had had quite enough of that. Even so, whatever it was that he had forgotten – it was not a small thing. It was something important; something  _very_  important, and the fact that Thorin and Dís seemed to know and were unwilling to tell him did nothing to calm him down. He looked again at the fourth chair at the table, and for a fraction of a moment, he could almost  _see_  someone sitting there – someone with golden hair and a confident grin. But then the image faded into shadow, and Kíli slumped in his seat, disappointed. Who had he just remembered?

* * *

 

Kíli's patience was wearing thin. He had spent a good portion of the day with Thorin, doing mundane activities that had undoubtedly been chosen to keep him calm. Every time he tried to bring up those missing memories, Thorin pulled him off the subject and gave him something else to do. By lunchtime, his fear had almost been forgotten as frustration burned fiercely inside him. He scowled over his lunch silently, trying to think of some way to get his uncle and his mother to broach the subject.

"Can I ask a question?" he said finally.

Thorin and Dís both stopped what they were doing and looked up at Kíli, their faces wary.

"Kíli, I don't think—" Dís started, but Kíli interrupted.

"No, this is a different question," Kíli said quickly. He had planned this; if he started with a subject they were willing to address, perhaps he could steer them towards whatever they were trying to hide. "I want to know about my father."

"Oh," said Dís. She abandoned her dishes and sat down with her brother and her son at the table. "What do you want to know?"

Kíli shrugged. "Anything," he said. "What he looked like. How he acted." He glanced down at his food and lowered his voice. "How he died." He kept his eyes on the table in the silence that followed and waited for someone to speak.

"Well," Dís started, "he looked a lot like you, Kíli. Or – you look a lot like he did."

Kíli looked up. "Really?" he said.

Dís nodded. "He did. Except he didn't have dark hair – that comes from our side." She nodded towards Thorin. "His hair was a dark blond, and he always wore it quite long… but he would braid it in the front, just like Fí—" She stopped and covered her mouth with her hand, cringing.

Kíli barely noticed her blunder; his mind had caught hold of the image of golden hair, and a face was forming beneath it – a face he knew. There was a confident smile, just like he had seen before, and blue eyes, crinkled at the corners with joy. It was so  _real_  - it had to be real.

"I remember him," Kíli gasped.

Dís lowered her hand and looked hard at her son. "Kíli, you weren't even two years old when he died," she said. "You couldn't remember him."

"But I do," Kíli said ardently. "Blond hair and blue eyes—"

"He had brown eyes, just like you," said Dís. Something had changed in her voice; now it was hard and wary, and Thorin was staring at him, too.  _What did I do now?_  he wondered, unease rising in his stomach.

"Well, then, what—"

"Do you want to hear more about your father?" said Dís. Kíli gave her a strange look, but he nodded, and Dís looked relieved.

"He was selfless, very selfless," she said, a wistful smile playing on her lips. "Proud, too, like all dwarves are, but he… he didn't have the vices that we of the royal line have. He was – he was  _better_ , better than we were."

"Royal line?" said Kíli.

"Yes, Kíli," said Thorin. "Do you remember the history of the Dwarves? Of Durin the Deathless?"

Kíli searched his mind for  _Durin_ , but he could not find it. He shook his head.

"The father of the greatest clan of the Dwarves. Ruler of Khazad-dûm – reborn to us to rule our people at certain times in history. You are descended from him, Kíli – as am I."

 _Khazad-dûm._  The name sparked in Kíli's mind, and he remembered learning about the ancient halls and of Durin the Deathless, and even later of the loss of that great kingdom to Durin's Bane. Then the Dwarves had settled in Erebor, until it had been lost to the great fire-drake, Smaug…  _Yes_  – he remembered, but this memory brought him no joy. He knew who Thorin was now – who he  _really_  was.

"The rightful king," Kíli said softly. "To Erebor. That's who you are, isn't it? You're not just my uncle – you're a king."

"An exiled king," Thorin said bitterly. "But yes, Kíli. I am the rightful King Under the Mountain."

Kíli nodded, going over this information in his head. Thorin was his mother's brother, and he did not have children of his own. But he knew also that  _he_  was not Thorin's heir – and then he hit that dark wall again.  _That's it,_  he thought.  _There's someone missing. Someone important._  He pushed at the darkness, but it pushed back, and an icy chill spread through his veins, making his fingers tremble.

"Kíli? Kíli, focus on me," Thorin said, his voice seeming to come from far away. Kíli forced his eyes upwards and locked onto Thorin, barely aware of anything else. Thorin took hold of his wrists.

"Focus, Kíli," he said. "Don't go there. You don't have to force yourself."

Kíli nodded and pulled away from that dark place; he tried to think on anything else, anything but that darkness that frightened him so.

"M-my father," Kíli said. "How did he die?"

Thorin's brow furrowed. "That doesn't seem like the best choice of topic," he said.

"No – please; I want to know," Kíli said. "How did he die?"

"He drowned," Dís said softly, and Kíli turned his eyes to her face. Her lip trembled, and she could not meet her son's gaze. "He – he was selfless, so selfless – but sometimes I wish that he had been a little more selfish."

"What happened?" Kíli said.

"There were two dwarflings playing by the creek, and they fell in," Dís said, wiping tears from her eyes. "He jumped in and rescued them, but it had been raining and the creek was high – I don't know how he got that second little boy out and not himself. He  _knew_  how to swim. It was like something held him under. I still – I still don't…" She trailed off into a sob, and Thorin quickly moved to her side and wrapped his arms around her. She turned into his embrace, burying her face into his chest, and began to weep. A dwarf's grief was deep and slow-healing, piercing and poisonous, and Kíli regretted pressing her on such a painful matter. He looked down at his hands silently as Thorin comforted his little sister and pondered the story he had just heard. It seemed familiar, somehow – and not just because he had heard it before, which he now realized that he had. Light was filtering into the dark places of Kíli's mind, and a memory was slowly coming through. A mirthful, lilting voice; two hands on his back; then water, lungfuls of water, until Fíli pulled him out—

"Fíli," Kíli gasped.  _Of course._  How could Kíli have forgotten his own brother? How could he have lost the most important person in his entire world? His eyes shot to that fourth chair.  _Fíli._  Of course it was Fíli. His blond hair and his blue eyes, and that ever-confident and yet slightly mischievous grin, framed by two braids dangling from his upper lip. His steadfast and constant rock that kept him grounded. His best friend.

Where was he?

"Where is Fíli?" he said, straightening and looking at his mother and uncle. They broke apart and looked back, their expressions identical – they both look nervous, unsure, and even grieved. Fear seized Kíli's heart when neither of them answered.

"Mum? Uncle?" he said nervously.

"He's – he's out," said Dís; she stumbled over her words clumsily and refused to look Kíli in the eye.

"Out where?" Kíli said suspiciously.

"Just out and about," Dís said, her eyes flickering between Thorin and the open air.

"Dís," said Thorin, a warning in his voice that Kíli could not interpret. He looked back and forth between his kin, trying to decipher whatever they were saying without words, but he could make no sense of it.  _Something is still missing._

"What's happened to Fíli?" he said. Even as he said it, however, the darkness reared up against him, and he winced. Suddenly, he didn't  _want_  to remember. Whatever it was, it was important –  _so_  important – and he didn't want to know.  _But what about Fíli?_  he thought, and his mind warred against itself. He wished his brother were right at his side, with his comforting warmth and strength and surety. But Kíli was alone, and a cold, grating voice whispered to him out of the darkness that  _something has happened to Fíli._

"Kíli, calm down," said Dís anxiously.

"Tell me what's happened!" Kíli demanded, though his mind said  _no, no, I don't want to know._  His fingers curled into fists as his thoughts became cloudy and disjointed.  _Stop,_  his mind said.  _Stop this._

"You need to relax," said Thorin, his eyes wide with alarm. "Now is not the time, Kíli – not when you are like this."

"Is he all right?" Kíli said. "Just – just tell me that he is all right."

"Please don't," Dís said. "Not now. Not right now."

Kíli stubbornly held on to his question, searching his own mind for the answer. He remembered Fíli rescuing him from the creek… helping him home… then Fíli getting in trouble for  _his_  mistake – then it struck him like a lightning bolt.

_"Shut up." Fíli threw on a dry tunic and sat down on the bed, pulling his boots back on hastily. "I'm going out. I'm not dealing with you right now."_

_"Fíli, please…"_

_"Don't talk to me!" Fíli snapped. He stomped out of the room and slammed the door behind him._

"He left," Kíli said. "He was angry with me, and he left. Where did he go?"

"Kíli, you need to stop," Thorin said authoritatively. "Trust me when I say this. I will fix this. I will take care of this."

"Take care of  _what_?" Kíli demanded.

"I-I think it may be better if you don't know," said Dís meekly. "Your uncle is right. You need to calm down. Please, Kíli."

" _Where is my brother?_ " Kíli screamed, rising to his feet. Somewhere in that darkness, Kíli  _knew_ , he  _knew_  that something had happened – something horrible – and he was terrified. Not the cold, icy terror that clung to him, but a hot, burning fear that consumed his heart and said  _he's dead, he's dying, he's been captured, he's missing_  – any and every possibility ran through his mind, and he knew the answer somewhere deep down, but he could not bring it to light. The idea of spending the rest of his life without his brother made him feel sick, and suddenly he gagged as his stomach turned upside down; he turned away from the table and fell to his hands and knees, breathing raggedly. He was sick, he was going to be sick and he didn't even know  _why_ , and then he vomited with tears streaming down his face, heaving over and over until finally he had nothing left in his stomach. He pitched forward with a groan and would have landed in his own sick, were it not for Thorin's strong arms wrapping around his middle and pulling him back. He fell shuddering into his uncle's chest and did not move.

"Stop this, Kíli," Thorin said. "You're working yourself up."

"H-he left because of me," Kíli croaked. His mouth was sour with bile and his throat was sore. "Where did he go? Where is he, Uncle?"

"That is  _enough_ ," said Thorin. "We are not going to discuss this now. Look what you have done to yourself."

"I need Fíli," Kíli said tearfully. "Please – please tell me – at least that he's alive."

"He is alive," said Thorin gravely, "and we are done discussing this. Come into the living room and relax."

Kíli numbly allowed himself to be pulled to his feet and led to the living room. His mind was in a haze, and now he was exhausted and his abdomen hurt from heaving. Thorin pulled him over to the couch and sat him down; Kíli immediately pulled himself into the corner and drew up his knees, hugging them close to his body.

"Stay here," Thorin said. "And please, Kíli – calm down. Think on other things. Don't do this to yourself."

Kíli sniffled and nodded, and Thorin left the room. As soon as he was gone, Kíli buried his face in his hands and wept. Something horrible had happened – he was sure of it in his heart, and Thorin and Dís's reactions had confirmed it. The thought that he could be without his brother forever, his last words to him angry and hurtful, was too much for Kíli to bear. He  _needed_  to know what had happened and where Fíli was. He needed to be forgiven and loved, and yet he was forbidden to even mention his brother at all.

Somehow, even though the cold terror had lessened and his memories of his family had returned, he felt more alone now than he ever had in his entire life.


	11. Shock

"Please, just tell me where he is."

"Kíli…" said Thorin with a sigh.  This had been a battle all day long.  "Let it alone. You need to rest and relax. You have been through too much."

Kíli fixed a hard glare on his uncle. Before he could speak, however, Thorin spoke again.

"No more questions, Kíli. Find something with which to occupy your time."

After throwing Thorin an especially belligerent glare, Kíli spun around and stalked off to his bedroom. He slammed the door behind him and flopped face-first onto his bed, growling.

"You don't understand," he mumbled into his mattress. "You… you just don't understand."

There was still a dark wall inside Kíli's mind – one that he longed to tear down and fill with light. He needed to _understand_. What had happened to him? Why was it that he could remember Fíli stalking out the door, livid with him, and then his next memory was of Gimli's rough voice calling him a fool while his heart and mind were overwhelmed with an inexpressible terror? What had happened in those few days that his mind refused to let him remember? Whenever he pushed against the walls, they fought back, sending waves of fear through his body. He was tired and confused, but he would not take no for an answer.

Kíli shivered as a chill wind blew through his room from the open window, raising goosebumps on his exposed arms. It was a wet wind that signified a coming storm, and judging by how dark it was outside at such an early hour, it was going to be a strong one. He could hear nearby trees hissing, and the birds were silent. He shuddered as an image of a cold, dark, wet place sprang into his mind, bringing with it a fresh wave of fear that he could not place. Moaning, he shoved his face into his pillow and squeezed his eyes shut. Though the fear still chilled him inside, a frustration also burned in his gut. He wasn't _like_ this. This wasn't _him._ He was Kíli, sister-son of Thorin Oakenshield, heir of Durin the Deathless, trained warrior and skilled bowman. He was not this cowering, frightened creature that jumped at every little thing.

 _Boom._ A crack of thunder broke into Kíli's thoughts and he shrieked, curling instinctively against the sound as his heart pounded ferociously in his chest. Then the rain started in a deafening rush, wind coursing through the bedroom and whipping Kíli's hair about. Another _boom_ reduced Kíli to a quivering mess on his bed, and he gritted his teeth angrily. This needed to _stop._

"Kíli?" said a voice at his door, and he started before recognizing it as his mother's. He didn't move, however, opting to stay curled into his pillow with his face hidden from view. He was ashamed – ashamed to be so weak and afraid.

"Oh, Kíli," said Dís, and her footsteps moved past his bed to the other side of the room. He heard the _click_ of his window being shut, and the hiss of rain softened. His mattress shifted, and his mother's hand was in his hair, pulling out the tangles the wind had caused.

"This isn't _me_ , Mum," he said.

"What was that, love?"

Kíli pulled his face out of his pillow. "This isn't _me,_ " he repeated. "This... being afraid of everything. Jumping at any sound. I _know_ it isn't me, but I can't stop it."

Dís was silent for a long time, stroking her son's hair as she thought.

"And you still don't remember what happened to you?"

Kíli shook his head miserably. He rolled onto his back and looked up at Dís.

"The thing is that I feel like I don't _want_ to remember," he said. "I mean, I do – I _really_ do – but every time I try, I feel... worse. More afraid. Like my own memory is trying to keep me out."

Dís twisted her lips and studied Kíli's face, brushing his hair away from his eyes. Kíli looked at her expectantly, hoping that maybe, just maybe, she would let him in on whatever the secret was, but she said nothing. A hot rush of anger flooded through him, and he turned away from her suddenly.

"Please leave me alone," he said roughly, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice.

"Now, Kíli—”

"If you're not going to help, I'd rather be alone," he snapped.

Dís sighed heavily, and then the mattress shifted; her footsteps moved towards the door. Suddenly an especially loud _crack_ of thunder hit, and Kíli yelped, covering his head with his arms.

"Kíli—"

"Leave me alone!" he shouted.

A soft _click_ told Kíli that his mother had done as he wished. He lifted his head out of his arms and scanned the room, just to make sure. Satisfied that he was alone, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, then rested his elbows on his knees and dropped his face into his hands, taking in a deep breath. A sharp pounding was starting on the left side of his temple, and he rubbed the spot with his knuckle; the pounding remained, and he growled.

Sitting around moping wasn't going to accomplish anything. He felt restless – he needed to _do_ something. He wasn't going to remember anything by laying on his bed and feeling sorry for himself. Thunder rolled again outside, and Kíli closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. He could fight this. He was a warrior, not a coward, and he would prove himself to be so. He straightened his back and squared his shoulders, wincing as a particularly loud crack of thunder shook the house. Then he stood and started towards the door.

"Dís, can I speak to you?" he heard on the other side in the low rumble of Thorin's voice. He paused and pressed his hand gently against the wood, listening intently.

"What about?" came Dís's reply.

"Privately," said Thorin. "Not out here. Come down to my room."

Kíli waited until the footsteps had descended down the hall and the _click_ of a door was heard, and then he opened his own door as quietly as he could. He stepped out into the kitchen and looked down the hall; Thorin's door was shut, and the low murmur of voices drifted towards him, too quiet for him to understand.

 _Go listen in,_ said a part of his mind, and he looked down the hall apprehensively. The fear was rising in his gut – they were talking about him. He knew they were, and that feeling that said _I don't want to know_ was pushing at him, making his heart pound. He swallowed and clenched his shaking hands into fists and ignored it, tiptoeing down the hall until he was right outside Thorin's bedroom.

"...going to be hard either way," Thorin was saying. "Keeping him in the dark will only make him more distressed. You saw him, Dís. He made himself _sick._ "

"But what will happen when he _does_ find out?" Dís said. "He's going to be beyond comfort, Thorin. You know how close they are."

Silence. Kíli leaned in closer to the door, his heart pounding even harder than before.

Dís spoke again. "Perhaps if we let him _see_ Fíli—”

"Absolutely not," Thorin said sharply. "I will _not_ let him speak with Kíli. It has ended in disaster every time. They cannot see each other."

So Thorin hadn't been lying – Fíli was alive. But why couldn't he see him? What had happened to Fíli? Where was he? He thought hard, pushing again against that darkness, but it reared up against him once again, sending him further into distress. The thunder rolled, and he stifled a yelp, clapping his hands over his ears. However, curiosity soon got the better of him, and he swallowed his fear as best he could and leaned in again to listen to his mother and his uncle.

"We have to wait," Thorin said – in reply to what, Kíli had missed, but he heard a sniffle that must have come from Dís. "Kíli is coming out of it – perhaps Fíli will, too. We can only hope."

Kíli blinked rapidly and covered his mouth with his hand to hide his frantic breathing. Whatever happened to him had happened to Fíli, too – and he still didn't know what it was. But if Fíli felt anything like he did, he _needed_ to see him. They were brothers – they were always there for each other. And maybe – just maybe – if he saw his brother, he would be able to remember what had happened, and they could work through it together.

"Who's with him now?" Dís said.

"Glóin," Thorin replied. "But I am going to take his place now – I haven't seen him since Kíli and Gimli returned."

Kíli stepped back and ran as quickly and as quietly as he could back to his room, lest he be caught and reprimanded for listening in. He made it into his room and shut the door quietly, and a moment later, he heard Thorin step out of his room. He sat on his bed, hiding his face in his hands and trying to calm his pounding heart and his harsh breathing. But what he had just heard swirled through his head and made him dizzy. He needed to see Fíli – the strength of that need shot through him like lightning and left him tense.

 _I could follow Thorin,_ he thought suddenly. But Thorin would never let him come – he had told Dís that they could not see each other. He would have to follow him unseen, then. Given the roar of the rain outside, that would be relatively easy. It was too dark and too loud for Thorin to see or hear him trailing behind.

Thorin's footsteps neared Kíli's door, and Kíli gasped. He threw himself under the covers and faced away from the door; perhaps if he pretended to sleep, Thorin would not suspect him. Thorin knocked, and Kíli said nothing.  Another knock came, and still Kíli did not respond. Then the door opened, and steps neared the bed.

"Kíli?" Thorin said.

Kíli lay still and tried to breathe as evenly as possible.

"Kíli, I know you're awake."

Kíli scowled. Of course he knew – he always knew. He could never fool Thorin – or Fíli or Dís, for that matter. He rolled over and looked at his uncle plaintively.

"What?" he said.

"How are you feeling?" Thorin said gently.

"Better," Kíli said. "But it's still hard... Uncle, why can't you just tell me what happened?"

Thorin sighed. "Just be patient, Kíli," he said. "Wait a little while longer."

"When can I see Fíli?" Kíli pressed.

"Be _patient_ ," Thorin repeated, and Kíli scowled as a bolt of anger went through him. He wanted to blurt out all that he had heard, but then he would be found out, and he would not be able to follow Thorin to wherever he was going. So he rolled back over and said nothing more. From behind him, he heard a heavy sigh, and then his uncle retreated from the room.

"I will be back later, Dís," said Thorin on the other side of the door.

"Bring him this," said Dís. "He'll be hungry."

In the silence that followed, Kíli pulled himself out of bed and looked at the door, thinking. Dís was in the kitchen, and there was no way that she would let him leave the house right after Thorin. She was sharp – she would know what he was doing. He looked quickly towards the window, considering. He hadn't sneaked out that window in years, but he hadn't grown much since then. He could surely still fit. The only problem was that he wouldn't have his cloak – or his shoes.

The front door slammed, and Kíli knew he had no more time to lose – he would just have to get wet. He leapt over the bed towards the window and pulled it open, and a cold, wet gust of wind caught him by surprise. He braced himself and pulled his body through the window, making it through relatively easily. Instantly he was soaked through by the torrential downpour; the thunder roared again, and Kíli found himself on his knees with his hands over his ears, shaking. _No,_ he told himself. _I can do this._ He pushed himself back up onto his feet and ran up to the corner of the house, watching for Thorin through the rain. He spotted him up ahead, hunched over against the rain, and waited. As he rounded a corner, Kíli dashed after him, looking left and right to make sure no one was watching. He held a hand over his brow to keep the rain out of his eyes, searching. Again he spotted him, just about to round another corner, and ran after him. Thorin had not looked back once, and for that Kíli was grateful.

Where was he going? Suddenly it hit Kíli that he couldn't remember how to get through the town, and he swallowed. He had no idea how to get home if he lost Thorin – he was going to have to be _really_ sneaky to get back home without getting caught, or he was going to have to reveal himself to his uncle and bear the consequences. But he pushed that out of his mind for now. Fíli was more important. Thorin turned again, and Kíli followed.

The rain was pouring even harder now, and the droplets were large and pounded against Kíli's bare arms. It was not cold, but the wet and the wind made him shiver, and though Kíli was growing accustomed to the thunder, he could not stop himself from jumping at every loud _boom_. Wherever Thorin was going, Kíli hoped that he got there soon.

Eventually Thorin stopped in front of a dreary stone building; he opened the door and walked inside, and Kíli stared after him, thinking hard. He recognized this building – he _knew_ he did – but he could not place it in his mind, save for the feeling of dread that accompanied it. He circled the building, looking for windows, and found one on the far side. He peered in and saw a dark room lit by torches with a dirt floor and – _cells_? Kíli started as he realized that this was a _jail_. Why had Thorin come here? Surely Fíli couldn't be in _prison._

Thorin and Glóin were talking. Kíli could see their lips moving, but he could not hear what they were saying through the glass window, and he was not adept at lip reading. He ducked away from the window and sat down on the wet ground with his back against the wall. What was he to do now?

Thorin had said that Glóin was with Fíli – but why was Fíli at the jail? Fíli would never do anything that would warrant being locked up. Not his Fíli. There must have been something else going on. He stood up again and looked in the window; Glóin was leaving, and Thorin was sitting down in a chair in front of one of the cells. Kíli squinted, trying to see more in the dim light. Suddenly the door to the jail opened, and Kíli gasped and turned the corner to avoid being seen. He could not hear Glóin's footsteps over the rain, but he did not see him, either, and after a minute with no sign of his cousin, he relaxed. He slowly made his way back around the corner, looking from side to side, and peered back in the window – but what he saw made his heart drop into his stomach.

Fíli was in the jail cell.

Without any further regard for decorum or consequence, Kíli ran to the door and burst into the jail. He stood in the entrance, dripping wet and breathing hard; Thorin stared at him in shock, and Fíli's face was twisted into a strange expression that Kíli did not recognize, a piece of bread halfway in his mouth.

"Kíli, what are you doing here?" Thorin demanded, standing up and blocking Kíli's view of his brother.

"Why is he in there?" Kíli shouted hoarsely. He pointed at Fíli with a dripping finger.

"You need to leave," Thorin said, his eyes wide with alarm. "You should not be here."

" _Answer the question!_ " Kíli shrieked.

Thorin opened and closed his mouth like a fish, but said nothing. Kíli had never seen him so caught off-guard. They stood in silence for a long moment; the dirt beneath Kíli's bare feet began to turn to mud.

"Uncle. Tell me the truth," said Kíli roughly.

Suddenly, a mirthless chuckle emerged from behind Thorin's frame, and both Kíli and Thorin looked to Fíli. He was staring at his brother with dark eyes, a cruel grin playing on his lips. He set down the bag of food Thorin had brought and started to speak.

"Still pathetic, I see," he said. His voice was the same: soft and confident, but the words were not his. Fíli would never talk like that. "More pathetic than ever, it seems."

Kíli looked from Fíli to Thorin, his eyes wide and his throat stopped up. He could barely think anymore; his hands were shaking, whether from the chill or from the shock of finding Fíli in jail, he did not know.

"Quiet, Fíli," Thorin shot out, and Fíli let out a light snort, but was silent. Thorin turned his gaze to his younger nephew and took a step forward.

"You shouldn't have followed me," he said gravely. "We didn't want you to—”

"You didn't want me to _what_?" Kíli exclaimed. "Find out that you've locked Fíli up in _jail_? What could he have _possibly_ done to deserve such a thing? He is my brother, Thorin! He would _never_ —”

"He attacked you," Thorin interrupted loudly.

Kíli took a step back as if he had been delivered a physical blow.

"He what?" he croaked.

"He attacked you, Kíli," Thorin repeated, his voice rife with grief. "He – he is suffering from the same thing you are. Except he’s worse.  He has not remembered any of us – and he's been violent."

"N-no he didn't. He wouldn't," Kíli said, shaking his head slowly. A shadow of a memory was stirring, but he pushed it back into the darkness. _No. Fíli wouldn't. Not my Fíli._

"You don't remember," said Fíli, his dark eyes set on his little brother.

"Fíli," Kíli said brokenly. He tried to say more, but his voice wouldn't work. _Tell me it's not true. Tell me you know who I am._

"How does it feel?" Fíli snarled. His voice was harsh, but it cracked, and his lower lip trembled; for a moment, a flash of desperation shone in his eyes, but they quickly hardened again, and the two brothers simply stared at one another.

This was familiar, somehow. Kíli knew it was, but he didn't _want_ to remember this time. He didn't want to know anymore, but he couldn't stop – the memory came anyway. Fíli screaming in bed, waking up and attacking him, and the coldness with which he had treated his kin. Fíli didn't remember him. Fíli didn't remember _anyone_. The memory was a cold shock, and Kíli stumbled under the weight of it, his eyes still locked on his brother. More memories assaulted him and he could not push them back.

_Kíli opened the bedroom door and was instantly snatched inside, Fíli's arm wrapped around him tightly. Kíli felt the sharp tip of one of Fíli's many knives against his throat, and an icy chill of panic drained him of all ability to move or think. He stood rigid, moving only as his brother dragged him out of the bedroom and six pairs of eyes looked on in horror._

Kíli's entire body was shaking. This was hard enough the first time – but now, coupled with the fey magic still affecting him, the revelation was almost too much to bear. Blood was rushing in his ears, and his vision was getting hazy. Words were coming back to him now. _You sniveling little worm – you pathetic creature... I'd wring your skinny little neck... You'll beg for death before I'm through with you!_ A choked cry left his throat, and suddenly Thorin's hands were on his face. He screamed and tried to pull away, but Thorin held him tight.

"Kíli, stop this," Thorin said. "Calm down."

Kíli turned his gaze to his uncle and stood still, trembling violently. Thorin looked him over worriedly, then pulled him into a hug. The embrace did nothing for Kíli's state of mind; he stood rigid in Thorin's arms, struggling to process what was happening. This was too much, too much at once. The world was crashing down around him and he had nothing to hold it up.

"You need to go home," Thorin said. He looked around him, as if someone would appear that could whisk Kíli away, but they were alone. He sighed and held his nephew at arm's length.

"Look at me, Kíli," he said. "You need to... _Mahal_ , Kíli, why did you follow me? I can't send you home like this..."

Kíli couldn't speak. He didn't want to speak – he didn't want to do anything anymore. Fíli was laughing at him. He could hear him laughing through the rush of blood in his ears.

"Quiet, Fíli!" Thorin shouted, and Kíli jumped. A bolt of anger shot through him – why was Thorin shouting at Fíli? He was a victim, not a criminal.

"Don't talk to my brother like that," he said.

"Kíli—”

"He doesn't deserve it," Kíli said coldly. "It's not his fault."

Thorin studied his youngest nephew's face for a few moments, seemingly torn. But though Kíli felt sick and confused and overwhelmingly upset, he was unmoving in this one thing – Fíli did not deserve to be treated thus. He met his uncle's eyes with burning coals in his own, adamant. Finally Thorin nodded, and he stepped away from Kíli and grabbed the chair near Fíli's cell.

"I'm putting this far from your brother's cell," he said, dragging the seat to the corner by the door. "You sit here until I can get someone to come for you." He looked over Kíli's shuddering frame with a sigh and pulled off his cloak. "And wear this. By Durin, Kíli, I don't know _what_ possesses you to do half the things you do."

Kíli was silent as Thorin draped the cloak over his shoulders and pushed him into the chair. The cloak was warm and dry inside, and he wrapped it tightly around himself and pulled the hood over his head. Water still trickled down his face and his back from his hair, but at least inside the hood, it was warm. Then Thorin walked across the room to Fíli's cell and leaned against the wall, shooting a warning look at the blond dwarf.

Fíli stared at Kíli.

Kíli pulled the hood further over his face until he couldn't see anything. He shook inside the cloak and cursed himself for this rash, stupid idea. Now he knew where Fíli was, but that knowledge had not brought him the peace he thought that it would. Instead, he felt worse, much worse, and nothing he could do could stop his heart from sinking deeper and deeper in despair.

The door to the jail suddenly flew open, and Kíli jumped and looked up. In the doorway stood Dís, water dripping from her cloak. She looked around the room wildly, missing her youngest in the corner.

"Is he here?" she said frantically. "I went in his room and the window was open and he was gone. Please tell me he's here."

"He is," Thorin replied, gesturing into the corner. Dís whirled around and dove at her son, wrapping her arms tightly around him.

"You foolish boy!" she said, nearly crushing him in her embrace. "Don't you do that to me! Are you all right?"

Kíli pressed his nose into the juncture of Dís's neck and shook his head.

Dís sighed heavily. "I didn't want you to come here," she said quietly. "Now you know why."

A lump formed in Kíli's throat instantly, and a moment later, tears followed. His face crumpled, and he shrank in his mother's arms and began to cry. From behind Dís, he could hear Fíli laughing again, and he moaned despondently. Thorin whispered something harshly, and the laughter stopped; Kíli lifted his head until he could see over Dís's shoulder. Fíli was leaning against the bars of the cell and had resumed eating the food that Dís had sent with Thorin.

"Let's get you out of here," Dís said gently. She pulled away from Kíli and stood up straight, holding out her hands. Kíli took them and rose, peering over her shoulder at his brother.  Fíli did not look back; his shoulders were hunched over and his head was bowed.

“B-but Fíli,” he said.  Fíli’s head rose slightly at the sound of his name, but otherwise he remained still.

“He has to stay,” said Dís.  “To keep him safe.  To keep _you_ – _us_ – safe.”

“He can’t stay _here_ ,” Kíli choked.  “If he’s going through what I am—”

“We don’t have much of a choice at the moment,” Dís said.

“Mum – no – you don’t understand—”

“We’re going,” Dís said firmly, pulling Kíli towards the door.

Kíli ripped himself away from Dís’s grip, feeling fresh tears slide down his cheeks.  “I can’t leave him here!” he said.  “Not like this!  He – he’s got to feel so alone, that’s how I felt – it’s not his fault!”  From the corner of his eye, he saw Fíli go rigid for a moment – but he said nothing, and then he looked back down.

“We know, Kíli, but we don’t know what else to do,” said Dís.  She reached for her youngest again.  “Let’s go.”

Kíli looked towards Fíli again.  He wanted to scream, to fight, to beat his fists against the wall and curse out loud.  But then a thought occurred to him.  Whatever had happened to him had happened to Fíli, which meant that if he could figure out how to fix _himself_ – he needed to do that before he could help his brother.  He could solve this, but he needed time and maybe even some help.  He would be back for Fíli, and he would get his brother back – completely.  He sniffed and allowed Dís to pull him away.

“I’ll be back, Fíli,” he called.  “I’m going to help you.  I promise.  I won’t leave you here alone.”

“I’d rather you stayed away,” Fíli said quietly.

Kíli blinked and swallowed as Fíli’s words cut through him like a knife.  He stepped out into the pouring rain with Dís without another word and did not speak the entire way home, his heart aching.

At least in the rain, no one could see him cry.


	12. Remembering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter is short and like 95% dialogue, but it's sort of a necessary set-up for what happens next. Please forgive my horribly unbalanced writing in this chapter.

When Thorin finally came home, Kíli was waiting in the kitchen, sitting at the table with a mug of ale in his hands. He had calmed down considerably in the hours following the harrowing revelation of where Fíli was, especially after the thunderstorm finally passed and left a quiet stillness in its wake. But now that he had had time to sit and think, he had questions that needed answering.

"How is Fíli?" Kíli said softly as Thorin nodded in silent greeting.

Thorin sighed. "The same," he said. "He doesn't say much. He just sits and glares."

Kíli nodded with an almost imperceptible shake of his head. This was so new and yet so familiar at the same time - and either way, he hated it. He just wanted Fíli back; he felt lost and alone without him.

"Who's with him now?" he said.

"Balin," Thorin said. "Only for a couple hours, though – then I don't know who to send." He wiped his hand down his face and rubbed his beard wearily. "Not everyone can take the time to watch over him."

Suddenly a memory came back to Kíli – he had visited Bofur, to ask him questions about… about something. He didn't know what. But he knew that Bofur knew.

"You could send Bofur or Bombur," he said, and Thorin's eyes snapped up, flashing.

"I'm not bringing more people into this," he said.

Kíli ducked his head. "They already know," he said sheepishly. "They – they saw you carry him to the jail."

Thorin's eyes widened. "Did they—"

"No, they didn't tell anyone," Kíli said. "They promised."

Thorin's shoulders relaxed, and he nodded. "I'll have to go speak to them," he said. "I shouldn't have doubted them. They have always been loyal."

"Can I come?" said Kíli. He could remember bits and pieces of his conversation with Bofur, but large parts of it were lost to him; maybe if he spoke to his old friend, the rest would come back.

Thorin studied Kíli sharply, considering. "I suppose so," he said. "Are you sure you're up for it?"

Kíli sat up straight and squared his shoulders. "I'm tired of being afraid," he said. The strength of his own voice surprised him. "Whatever happened, I want to know. I'm not going to let myself be afraid anymore."

A fond smile came over Thorin's face then, and he nodded. Without another word, he made off for his room, patting Kíli's shoulder as he walked by. Kíli turned his head and smiled at the kind gesture, internally celebrating his small victory. He drank the last of his ale and stood, ambling over to the barrel in the corner for some more.

"That's one way to relax," said Dís. Kíli turned his head and spotted her coming up the hallway, and he grinned.

"It's better shared," he said. "Drinking alone – well, it's a bit sad, isn't it?"

"Well, then, get your mother some," said Dís, chuckling. Kíli obliged, and the two sat down at the table with their drinks. Moments of peaceful silence passed, and then Dís spoke.

"How are you holding up?" she said.

"Better with a mug of ale in my hand," Kíli joked. He took another swig.

"I'm being serious, Kíli," said Dís. "You've been through quite a lot. I want to make sure you're all right. _Truly_ all right."

"Of course I'm not all right," Kíli snapped. Then he sighed and set down his ale. "Sorry, Mum. I mean – this isn't a normal situation. I don't know how to react." He grimaced. "It seems like my body has been deciding for me."

"You couldn't help that," said Dís kindly. "At least you're getting better."

"But Fíli isn't," Kíli said. "You and Uncle said that the same thing that happened to me happened to Fíli – but I can't even remember what that is. What's different between us? Why isn't Fíli getting better, Mum?"

Dís twisted her lips and thought for a moment. "I don't know if I should tell you," she said. "The thing is, Kíli, that before it happened to you – you probably don't remember this – but you tried to get Fíli to remember what happened to him. Dwalin told me it didn't end well. Fíli was so distraught that he had to fetch Óin to drug him in order to calm him down."

"Please tell me, Mum," Kíli pleaded.

"I really don't think it's a good idea," Dís said. "We don't know what will happen, Kíli."

"How am I supposed to fix it if I don't know what happened in the first place?" Kíli shot out. "I need to know."

"Who says that you have to be the one to fix it?" said Thorin from the hallway. He got himself a mug of ale and sat down with his sister and nephew. "I've told you many times – I will take care of this. I will fix this."

"Fat lot of good you've been so far," Kíli snapped.

" _Respect_ , Kíli!" said Dís, shocked.

"You've done nothing productive, either," Thorin shot back. "The only thing you have managed to do is cause further damage to yourself and your brother. I think it's about time you left this task in someone else's hands."

"I don't even know what I've done!" said Kíli. "No one will tell me what's happened! How am I supposed to know?"

Thorin and Dís exchanged glances, and Kíli watched as a conversation passed between their eyes. Then they turned back to Kíli, and Thorin spoke.

"I can tell you," he said, "but you have to promise me one thing."

Kíli nodded eagerly.

"If any of this becomes too much for you, you have to tell us to stop," Thorin said. "I don't want to have to call for Óin, do you understand?"

Again Kíli nodded, and so Thorin started in on the story, beginning with Kíli's memory of Fíli stomping out the door after their fight. There were bits that Kíli remembered, and others that still eluded him; it was like being reminded of a half-forgotten dream – or in this case, a nightmare. When Thorin mentioned Kíli bringing Fíli back on his pony, Kíli interrupted.

"He was unconscious?" he said.

Thorin nodded. "We couldn't wake him for anything. Do you remember that?"

Kíli compared this news with the memories he had, and a small piece of the story came together. He nodded slowly.

"But why was he unconscious?" he said.

"I don't know," said Thorin. "You're the one who found him, Kíli."

"Was he injured?"

"No, he wasn't. Let me finish, Kíli."

"But I remember the next part," Kíli said. "He was screaming, and then he woke up and he attacked me – and all of that. I remember going to see him in jail, but then after that… nothing." He shrugged.

"That's when you tried to get answers out of Fíli," said Dís. "Do you remember that? We weren't there."

Kíli thought, but nothing came to him. He shook his head.

"I don't know where you went after that," Dís continued.

"I went to see Bofur," Kíli said, surprising himself. "I went to ask him about… oh _Mahal_." The fey. Fíli had been attacked by a fey creature. His brother's words at the jail finally came back to him: _It was darkness and despair and anger and laughter… Hollow eyes and sharp teeth and dead flesh. It wouldn't let me go - it laughed and laughed and I screamed and begged but it wouldn't stop, it wouldn't stop, it wouldn't_ _stop_ _!_ An image of the creature flashed through his mind, and his heart instantly seized up with horror and terror. He grabbed fistfuls of his hair and bowed his head, breathing hard.

"Kíli!" said Dís from somewhere far away. Kíli gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, fighting with all his might against the memory and willing it away. He could feel its cold claws on his face, and he pulled on his hair and screamed through his teeth. _Go away go away please go away leave me alone._

"Don't touch his face!" Dís shouted, and Kíli's eyes snapped open to find Thorin right beside him, his hands quickly dropping to his sides.

"Kíli, listen to me," he said. "You're safe. Remember? It can't get you here. You're all right."

A sort of strangled animal sound came from Kíli's throat. He felt lightheaded and sick, but he kept his eyes focused on his uncle. Slowly, Thorin lifted his hands, watching for Kíli's reaction. When Kíli simply kept staring, he reached up and took his nephew's hands, untangling them from his hair and pulling them down.

"All right?" he said.

Kíli shook his head, shaking. "I-I remember it," he said. "The creature. It grabbed me – it grabbed my face, and it was so – so—" Another strangled sound left him, and he clenched his hands into fists and fought the urge to run and hide.

"You're doing well," Thorin said. "Much better than I thought. You'll be all right, Kíli. Relax. Take in a deep breath."

Kíli breathed in and let it out shakily.

"Good. Again."

Again Kíli did as he was told. A familiar twinge came on his left side, and he did his best not to wince; then a sick feeling arose in him as another memory struck him – one of this twinge, when he couldn't remember how it had come about, and he had told his mother about it. He looked to her uneasily, and then glanced away when he saw the curious look on her face. He took another deep breath and avoided her eye.

"Better?" said Thorin.

Kíli nodded, keeping his eyes fixed anywhere but his uncle and his mother. He still felt absolutely awful, but his lung had distracted him enough where he no longer felt like he was falling apart at the seams. He swallowed and closed his eyes, and Thorin ruffled his hair. When he opened them again, Thorin was back in his seat, and both he and Dís were watching him.

"Fíli was attacked by the same creature that attacked me," he said with a shaky voice. "It said it had attacked a 'yellow one'. I remember it now."

"You are sure about this?" said Dís.

Kíli nodded resolutely. "But no one was there to save him," he said. The thought made him feel sick again. "Gimli rescued me, didn't he?"

"He said that he attacked the creature and pulled you out of the cave," said Thorin.

"But not Fíli," Kíli said, horror rising in him at the thought. "He – he would have been so alone, and that _thing_ had him at its mercy until he couldn't take it anymore – oh, Fee." He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fists. No wonder Fíli was so far gone. Kíli had only been in its clutches for a few moments, and he was still recovering, days later. Who even knew how long Fíli had borne the same thing? Minutes? Hours? He moaned and dropped his head into his hands.

"We have to go back," he said.

"No," Thorin barked, and Kíli jumped. "Absolutely _not_. You are _never_ going back there."

"But Fíli—"

"We will find some other way, Kíli," said Thorin. "This creature is far too dangerous. There must be another way to solve this."

"I looked in my books that Mr. Balin gave me and I asked Bofur and Bombur – there's _nothing_ about this anywhere," Kíli said. "What are we supposed to do?"

"Maybe he will get better of his own accord," said Thorin.

"That could take weeks, months, years, even, Uncle," said Kíli. "I'm _not_ waiting that long to have my brother back. Not if we don't know if it will even work that way. There has to be _something_ we can do."

"We'll keep looking, Kíli," Thorin said. "I promise you."

"And never give up?" said Kíli.

Thorin smiled. "You should know by now, Kíli," he said, "that your stubborn old uncle never gives up on anything."

* * *

 

Kíli and Thorin were welcomed into Bofur and Bombur's home with a warm smile and a cheerful greeting, as was customary of their old friend. Bofur bowed his head low to Thorin, and Bombur hurried to put together some food and boil water for coffee.

"To what do I owe this honor, Thorin?" said Bofur, gesturing to a chair at his table. Thorin and Kíli sat, and Kíli folded his arms on the table and dropped his chin on top. Bofur gave him a curious look before turning his attention back to his king.

"Secret business," said Thorin, graciously accepting a plate of biscuits that Bombur pushed in front of him. "Kíli tells me that you know about Fíli."

Bofur's cheerful grin faded, and he nodded gravely. "How is he?" he said.

"No better," said Thorin. "And Kíli here was almost subject to the same fate."

"Blimey, lad, I told you not to go alone!" Bofur said, turning to Kíli.

"I didn't!" said Kíli defensively. "I took Gimli! I just… left him behind."

"You knew about this plan of his?" said Thorin, turning a sharp eye onto Bofur. The old miner quailed under Thorin's gaze, glancing between the king and his nephew.

"I – we talked, Kíli and I," Bofur said. "He wanted to know about fey creatures – he thought that one had gotten to his brother, and I told him that maybe it would fix him up if asked. But I told him not to go alone if he did, Thorin, I swear."

"It's not his fault, Uncle," Kíli cut in. "He was worried for me, and I didn't do what I promised to do. Don't blame Bofur."

"That's very humble of you, Kíli," Thorin muttered sarcastically, but his sharp eye softened, and Bofur relaxed.

"Is there anything else that you can tell us?" said Thorin. "I never put much stock in such creatures – I always accepted their existence, but I never imagined that they would interfere with my own life."

"Kíli, did you see it?" said Bofur.

A surge of fear went through Kíli at the thought, and Thorin rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Kíli took a deep breath and forced back the rising feeling.

"I did," he said simply. He wanted to say more, but he was afraid that his mind would betray him.

"I'm sorry, lad," said Bofur gently. "I didn't think – well, I didn't think at all, it seems. I shouldn't have said those things to you."

Kíli tucked his chin into his chest and rested his forehead on his arms, making a noncommittal noise of acknowledgement. His head was buzzing as he tried to force the memories and the fear away, but he knew it was pointless to try _not_ to think about something. Thorin's hand did not leave his shoulder.

"Are you going to be all right?" Thorin said in a low voice.

"Give me a minute," Kíli said through gritted teeth. His voice came out strained, and Thorin's hand tightened.

"The reason I'm here is to ask for your help, Bofur," said Thorin. "As you are aware, we are keeping Fíli safe in the jail for the time being, but I am running out of people to keep watch over him. If you aren't too busy, I would ask if you would be willing to take a shift when asked. You and Bombur."

"Of course, Thorin," said Bofur seriously. "When do you need me?"

"Balin is with him now, but he can only stay so long," said Thorin. "If you would – in an hour or two, relieve him?"

Bofur nodded. "For how long?" he said.

"How long can you stay?"

"A few hours tonight," Bofur replied. "And a few hours tomorrow."

"I'll let you know when you're needed," Thorin said gravely. "Thank you." He accepted the coffee that Bombur set before him and looked up to the large dwarf. "And you, Bombur?"

"Aye," said Bombur, setting another cup before Kíli with a kindly smile. "I'll stay tomorrow for a while."

Thorin nodded gratefully to the both of them as Bombur set some biscuits before him as well.

"Kíli, have something to eat," Bombur said.

Kíli lifted his head and took the coffee with both hands, drawing it closer to himself. He breathed in the aroma and focused on its warmth, pushing away the cold thoughts that made his hands shake and his heart pound. He looked up at his friend with a halfhearted smile.

"Thank you," he said.

Bombur pushed the biscuits towards him. "Eat," he prompted, and Kíli took one. Finally Thorin's hand left his shoulder, and he focused on his food and his drink, ignoring the worried faces surrounding him.

He could beat this fear. He _would_ beat this fear – and he would save his brother. If he could fix himself, he could fix Fíli, and no one was going to stop him.

* * *


	13. Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've noticed a thing. There seems to be a misconception about Fíli's behavior that isn't really your fault, but mine, for not clarifying it - yet. But if you are interested in knowing just how Fíli's mind is working without waiting for all to be revealed (because it'll take a while before that happens) hop over to my blog and read this post: [[x](http://wonderingsandwitticisms.tumblr.com/post/57765521499/the-real-fili-a-view-at-illusions)] It will show you what's really going on. There are some minor spoilers in it, though so ye be warned!

It took Kíli the better part of the night and the morning to gather the courage to pose his request to Thorin, but finally, he was ready.

He waited for his uncle to return home from the jail in the living room, poring over one of his old books gifted to him by Balin. He flipped the pages absentmindedly; anything he read seemed to leave his head immediately, and he had reread the same section five times before he had just given up and resorted to looking at the pictures. He was bored, and no one would give him anything to do. _Rest. Relax. Recover._ That's all anyone would tell him, and he was sick of it. He needed to _do_ something.

Finally the front door opened, and Kíli shut his book with a _snap_ and looked up hopefully. When Thorin did not appear in the entryway quickly enough for his liking, he threw the book down on the couch and dashed out of the living room into the kitchen.

"Uncle!" he shouted as he rounded the corner.

Thorin started and looked up quickly; he set his wide eyes on his nephew and relaxed.

"Durin's beard, Kíli!" he said in an exasperated tone.

"Sorry, Uncle," Kíli said, fighting a mischievous grin. "I have a question for you."

Thorin sighed and rolled his eyes. "Give me half a moment," he grumbled. "I'm still wearing my boots, for Mahal's sake."

Kíli leaned against the wall and fidgeted, waiting impatiently for Thorin to acknowledge that he was ready to speak. Finally Thorin ambled over to Kíli and leaned against the table, crossing his arms.

"What is it?" he said.

A jolt of nervousness went through Kíli, but he was determined. He lowered his eyes and took in a gulp of air.

"I want to take a shift in watching over Fíli," he said all in one breath.

"No," said Thorin immediately.

Kíli looked up at Thorin, a surge of anger heating his face. "Why not?" he said. "I can't just _sit_ here—"

"Every time you talk to him, it ends in hurt, Kíli," said Thorin. He sighed. "I am trying to _protect_ you – don't you understand that?"

"I know he's going to say cruel things, Uncle," Kíli countered. "I remember that. But I'm ready for it now. I know it's not _him_ saying those things." He lowered his voice. "I just want to help him, Uncle. In any way that I can."

"And how are you going to help him?" Thorin said skeptically.

"I want to talk to him," said Kíli. "I'll tell him stories about growing up. Ask him questions. That's what helped me remember."

"You said yourself that it could take weeks, months, years," said Thorin. "I think it's much more likely that he would threaten and insult you. Kíli, you don't need to go through that again."

"It'll take longer if we don't _try_ something!" Kíli shouted. Mahal, why couldn't he _understand_? "Why aren't you even _trying_? You're just sitting around, waiting for something to happen and we don't even know if anything _will_ – I feel like I'm the only one looking for answers around here!" He paused, watching for Thorin's reaction, but his uncle merely stared at him. "You promised me that you would fix this, Thorin, but I haven't seen you do _anything_ except arrange shifts to watch him as you keep him in jail! What have you even _done_?"

Thorin stared plaintively at his young nephew, seeming to be at a loss for words. He uncrossed his arms and rested his hands on the table behind him, his shoulders sagging. For a few long moments, he said nothing, and the silence hung between them, filled with tension.

"I… I don't know what to do," Thorin admitted finally.

"Then let me talk to him," Kíli said passionately. "Let me be with him – just a couple of hours."

Thorin nodded heavily in concession. "Just for a couple of hours," he said. "Do what you can, Kíli."

Now it was Kíli's turn to be at a loss for words. He had hoped that he would win this argument, but he hadn't imagined that he actually _would_ , and especially not so quickly. After stammering for a few moments, he finally squeaked out: "Thank you, Uncle."

Thorin nodded again, bringing one hand up to his brow and rubbing his temples wearily. "Just be on your guard, Kíli," he said. "He's not himself. He's angry and confused, and he's lashing out like a wild animal that's been backed into a corner. You need to keep that in mind. Don't do anything rash." Then he pushed himself away from the table and trudged down the hallway to his room. Kíli watched him go, finally looking away when Thorin's bedroom door shut with a soft _click_.

* * *

The silence was unbearable.

Kíli had wanted to speak to Fíli the moment he relieved Glóin from his shift, but he had found himself unable to speak when he saw the dark look in his brother's eyes. He had never seen Fíli look at him like that before, and it had thrown him off so much that he just said nothing at all. However, the silence did not suit him, and he fidgeted under Fíli's unrelenting glare, feeling more uncomfortable than he ever had in his entire life.

Finally, Fíli spoke.

"Why do you keep coming here?" he said. His voice was soft and gentle, as always, but Kíli could hear the contempt lying beneath the surface. However, he could also sense that Fíli was genuinely curious, and he hoped that that curiosity would lead to true understanding.

"Because I know you're in there somewhere," Kíli said.

Fíli scoffed and looked down. "I don't know who that's supposed to be, but I think it's time you gave up hope," he said.

"Don't say that," Kíli snapped.

Fíli's gaze flicked back up to Kíli. "Do you see anything changing?" he said, his voice suddenly harsh. "Because I don't. You and your people are just going to keep me here forever, aren't you - nothing is going to change, and I'm going to be stuck here with _you_ being _pathetic_ and whimpering about your 'brother'… why don't you people just let me go?"

"But you _are_ my brother," Kíli said. Why couldn't Fíli understand? "Why would I say you are my brother unless you actually are, Fíli? For Mahal's sake, our names _rhyme_!"

"I look nothing like you or your kin," Fíli said. "I don't know what you're up to, but I'm not falling for it."

"You have our father's hair, but you have our mother's eyes," Kíli said. Fíli merely stared, and he continued, pulling anything he could think of out of his mind. "You were born five years before me. You're the heir to the throne of Erebor, far over the Misty Mountains – after Thorin, of course, who I know is planning to retake it soon. He'll want you at his side."

"I wouldn't go anywhere with you and your ridiculous kin," Fíli growled. "I'm no heir. I'm—" Suddenly he stopped and looked confused, and Kíli seized that moment.

"You see? You can't remember," he said. "I know how that feels, Fíli. It happened to me, just like it happened to you. I know – I know what you must be thinking, but you have to believe me when I say that everything I am telling you is true."

Fíli suddenly turned around and faced away from Kíli.

"Leave me alone," he muttered, barely loud enough for Kíli to hear.

"Fíli, please, you have to _try_ to remember," Kíli pleaded.

"Don't you think I've tried?" Fíli shouted, whirling back around with a malicious scowl upon his face. "I have _tried_ and _tried,_ and I remember _nothing!_ Don't you think that if I knew you, I'd at least remember you - just a little bit? Maybe you'd be familiar, or I'd have some vague inclination that this was right? But there is _nothing_! And what kind of family locks up their kin for days in a jail cell? I don't know what games you're trying to play with me, but I will not fall prey to your lies! So _shut up_ and _leave me alone_!"

Kíli snapped his jaw shut and stood suddenly, almost knocking over the chair in his haste to move away from the cell. He faced the opposite wall and crossed his arms, biting his lip and taking a deep breath. _Don't let it get to you,_ he told himself. _He's not himself. He doesn't know what he's saying._

_But he doesn't remember me at_ all _,_ said another part of his mind. _At least I knew that I_ should _know who people are…_ he looked up at the ceiling and fought the tears that threatened to spill. He felt hopeless all over again, but he couldn't show weakness in front of Fíli. He would only laugh and call him _pathetic_ again.

Slowly Kíli turned around and trudged back over to the chair. He sat down silently and bowed his head, avoiding his brother's eye, but he could feel Fíli looking at him. He said nothing for a long time, allowing silence to fall between them once again.

Eventually Kíli drew up the courage to speak again, and he looked up to his brother. Fíli was still staring at him; Kíli wondered if he had ever stopped.

"You don't remember anything at all?" he said.

Fíli rolled his eyes and groaned. "Will you just _give it up_?" he said.

"Nothing?" Kíli prompted. "Absolutely nothing?"

"I think I would have remembered you by now if there was anything to remember," Fíli snapped. "Are you always this irritating?"

Kíli searched his mind for something, some memory – something strong. Something he could prove. Then an idea occurred to him.

"When you were thirty, I tried to teach you how to use a bow," he started. "Do you remember that?"

Fíli lay back on his pallet and covered his eyes with his hands, groaning. "No," he said, his voice resigned.

"I was stupid," Kíli said. "I – I stood in your way and I told you to shoot, and you missed, and you got me with the arrow instead."

Fíli sat up then and looked at Kíli with a curious glint in his eyes, but he remained silent. Kíli's heart swelled, and he continued.

"You wouldn't leave my side," he said. "I mean, you had to, at first, to get Uncle and Óin, but after that – not for a moment. You stayed with me through everything that you could. When the wound got infected… when I was in a coma… when I forgot how to talk, you encouraged me. And when I caught pneumonia, you stayed by my side until Uncle made you leave – but you were so worried." He looked down and took a deep breath. Fíli's expression was unreadable as he stared.

"I felt bad about that," he said. "How worried you were for me. I felt like it was all my fault, but you would only blame yourself. And I gave up." Kíli's hands curled into fists. "I gave up, because I forgot. I forgot how much we need each other, Fíli. But you didn't let me die. You wouldn't."

Fíli interrupted then, his face twisted into the strangest expression, but he kept his eyes downcast.

"I – I think I remember," he said simply.

Kíli's heart leapt, and he stared at Fíli with wide eyes.

"Fíli, it's me," he said excitedly. "You know it's me, don't you?"

"Kíli…" Fíli said, his voice cracking. He looked up at his brother, his dark eyes shining. "Kíli, I don't know – I'm so confused—"

"It's all right, Fíli – it's all right," Kíli said, his heart pounding. An enormous grin began to grow on his face, and he stood and leaned against the bars. "What can you remember?"

"I – I remember… I don't know." He shook his head. "I – the arrow…"

"That's right," Kíli said. "You can remember it now, can't you?"

"Help," Fíli whispered, drawing his knees up and wrapping his arms around them. Kíli fumbled for the key ring on his belt and unlocked the cell door. He dove to his knees next to Fíli and rested his hands on his shoulders.

"Hey, look at me," Kíli said. "Look at me. You can do this."

Fíli met his gaze, a strange look in his eyes. He nodded slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on his brother.

"Kíli," he said again, and Kíli smiled as tears formed in his eyes. Finally – _finally_ – he was getting his brother back. If he remembered nothing else, at least he remembered his brother, and at the moment, that was enough. They could work on the rest later. He stood and held out his hand.

"Come on," he said. "I'll stay with you. I'll help you, Fíli."

Fíli took his hand, and Kíli pulled him to his feet and immediately into a hug. He clung tightly to his older brother, and Fíli hugged him back – but something was off. Fíli seemed unsure, holding his little brother cautiously, and Kíli frowned.

"It's all right, Fee," he said, pulling away. "We'll work out the—"

Then a fist collided with the side of his head.

Kíli stumbled back with a shout, his vision swimming and lights flashing from somewhere. He shook his head and looked at Fíli, confusion coursing through his mind.

"Fíli, what on earth—"

Fíli punched him again, and the force sent Kíli to the floor, clutching his head with a groan. He felt nauseous, and he gagged. When nothing came up, he looked up at the hazy form of his brother just in time to see his foot coming at him in a kick. He rolled and caught it between his shoulder blades, and he shouted out in pain.

"Gullible," Fíli snarled, kicking him again. "So gullible. Absolutely pathetic."

"F-Fíli…" Kíli moaned hoarsely. "Fíli, stop. Don't do this."

"Don't follow me," Fíli said, and then he ran out the open door of the cell and out of the jail.

Kíli dropped his forehead into the dirt and screamed. He was so frustrated – so filled with abject betrayal, but he forced back the tears that came and pushed himself to his feet. Fíli couldn't get away. He was _not_ going to lose his brother again – especially not like this. He stumbled and slammed into the bars, and a sob escaped him; but he pushed onward, dashing out of the jail and looking around for Fíli.

He spotted him up ahead, running towards the open field to the north of town, and he ran after him. _Stupid, stupid, gullible,_ he scolded himself over and over as he ran, his balance slowly returning to him. Fíli was far ahead, but Kíli was the faster runner, and he slowly gained on him. Then Fíli rounded a copse of trees, and Kíli couldn't see him anymore. He took a deep breath, ignoring the growing pain in his side, and ran hard.

When he rounded the copse, he stopped for a moment and looked around. Fíli was nowhere to be seen. He leaned over and panted, clutching his left side, and thought about where Fíli would possibly go.

_If he's anything like I was, he'll have no clue where he is,_ he thought. _What would I do?_ Then the bubbling of the creek caught up to his ears, and the thought struck him – maybe Fíli would try to follow the creek north, away from town. He swallowed and started off, searching for the telltale sign of his brother's blond hair.

Nothing. Fíli was just gone. He stopped again by the side of the creek to catch his breath. His side was killing him now, like it hadn't in years. Apparently, his near-drowning the week before was still affecting him; he looked at the running waters beside him warily and sidestepped away.

Suddenly he was on the ground and seeing stars, and his head was pounding; he looked up, and the blurry form of his brother stood over him.

"I _told_ you not to follow me," Fíli growled. "You never listen, do you? Stubborn idiot! I can't _stand_ you!"

"Fíli, please," Kíli begged. He couldn't fight back. Not against Fíli. He wouldn't.

"Well, you're not going to follow me anymore," Fíli said, and he kicked Kíli in the side of the head. Kíli's vision went black for a few moments and groaned, fighting for consciousness; he felt Fíli grabbing his wrists, but he was too dizzy to fight. Fíli dragged him towards the water's edge, and then they were in the water. Panic filled Kíli as he realized what was happening, and he began to struggle, but Fíli was stronger – and at the moment, far more physically stable. He flipped Kíli over and grabbed the back of his neck, plunging his face into the water.

Kíli struggled against Fíli's grip with manic frenzy, but he could not escape. Fíli was straddling him now, keeping his body in the water, and Kíli could not lift his head. He gulped in water, and it burned down his windpipe. He gagged and his body jerked, but Fíli did not relent, holding him down with strong hands.

_Fíli's gone_ , Kíli thought then. _He's completely gone. He's going to kill me._

So this was the end of his life. He was going to die at the hands of his brother – his brother who couldn't even remember him, who hated him now, who wanted him to die. If this was all that he had left… _I don't want to do this anymore._ This was all his fault, and he was reaping the consequences. Well, this was what he would get. He deserved this.

Kíli stopped struggling.

Fíli's hands still held him under the water, and he felt a strange sort of peace come over him as he accepted his lot. He thought of when he was younger – when he was a child and Fíli would let him ride on his shoulders, and they would both fall and get in trouble for almost killing each other. When Fíli would read him stories before bed, and let him snuggle into his side like a puppy before he fell asleep. When he he was being bullied and Fíli stood up for him and encouraged him to stand tall, reminding him that he was a prince, not a commoner. When Fíli had saved his life, shooting a charging wolf, even though he never wanted to use a bow again. _That_ was his Fíli. He would remember his brother like that – when he went to the halls of his fathers, he would tell them how _good_ , how _noble_ Fíli was, how they would be so excited to meet him one day. He would not remember this Fíli that tried to kill him now.

He gulped in more water and felt the oily tendrils of darkness filter into his mind – he had experienced this before, years ago, and he had forced it away for Fíli. But if this was what Fíli wanted now, then he wouldn't fight it this time.

Then the darkness overtook him, and he remembered no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, you all hate me now. This is not the end of the fic.
> 
> I'd love if you all went to my awesome friend [Mhyin's blog](http://mhyin.tumblr.com/) and checked out her lovely illustrations of Illusions. There's a link on the left side that says "fanfiction art" that will show just her fanfic illustrations, but I encourage you to look at all of her art, because she is just utterly fantastic.


	14. Breathe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter you've all been waiting for is here! Special thanks to my awesome friend Nalbal for being my beta for this chapter. Without her, this would be a lot more suckish. Also, special blame goes to my other awesome friend Mhyin for some of the angsty ideas in this chapter. You can blame her for your pain. Well, part of it. I am the one writing this fic, after all. Also if you haven't checked out [her blog](http://mhyin.tumblr.com) seriously go do it because her illustrations of this fic (and other fics) are amazing.

The next thing Kíli knew was that he couldn't breathe.

Water shot from his lungs and burned through his windpipe, and he was coughing, he couldn't stop coughing, and his whole body ached. How was there so much water in his lungs? He gagged, and someone flipped him over and supported him as he vomited. When he had finished, he returned to coughing, the water still burning, but coming up slower now.

Everything hurt.

"Kíli, can you hear me?" called a panicked voice out of the darkness. Someone was holding him, someone with strong arms, but he couldn't place it. He tried to take in a breath, but he just coughed again. Water and spittle leaked down his chin, and his mouth hung open loosely. Finally he was able to take in a breath, and he sucked in a lungful of air.

His chest exploded in pain.

Kíli cried out weakly, incapable of doing more. The world was still dark, and the only thing he was aware of was pure agony and a terrifying inability to breathe. His fingers curled around fabric, and he clutched it weakly, wheezing painfully. The person holding him turned him over onto his back and rested a hand on his brow.

"Kíli, are you awake? Can you open your eyes?"

Kíli groaned between wheezes and forced his eyes open just enough to catch a hazy glimpse of Thorin leaning over him, his face showing a raw fear that Kíli had never seen before. He let his eyes close again – keeping them open was too exhausting. His lungs hurt _so_ much…

"Let me go!" cried another voice, and Kíli opened his eyes again, searching for it. His eyes rolled in his head, and he coughed again; he tried to push himself up, but his limbs would not obey, and he stayed in place.

"Don't try to get up," Thorin said. "You almost died – don't push yourself."

Suddenly the memory of what had happened came rushing back. Fíli beating him, holding him under the water – then accepting his fate and allowing himself to die. But he hadn't died – somehow, he was still alive, though every breath felt like he was being stabbed in the chest. He moaned despondently before losing himself to a harsh bout of coughing. His insides were on fire; the last time he had felt this much pain, he was in bed, on the verge of death with pneumonia, and it was not a feeling that he had ever wished to repeat.

"Thorin, I can't hold him back much longer!" called a distinct and familiar voice. _Bofur._ Thorin suddenly left his side, and he was alone in the grass, gasping. He turned his head to watch his uncle, who made his way towards Fíli being held clumsily by Bofur.

"Don't you _dare_ move!" Thorin roared, and Kíli started at the force of his voice. Fíli started, too, and he stopped struggling against Bofur's grip and stared at his uncle.

"Have you absolutely no humanity?" Thorin continued, his voice losing none of its volume or power. "You would resort to assault? To _murder_? You would attempt to kill your own kin?"

"He's not my kin!" Fíli shouted, pulling forward, but Bofur still held him.

"Take him back to the jail!" Thorin rumbled dangerously. "Do whatever you need to do to get him there – knock him out if you have to. But make sure he gets there and _stays_ there!"

"Aye, Thorin," said Bofur, his normally cheery face drawn and weary. He pulled at Fíli, but Fíli pulled back viciously, throwing Bofur off balance. He recovered quickly and regained his hold on the blond before he slipped away, and Fíli growled. Thorin started towards him, then stopped, turning to look back at Kíli; the concern radiating from his expression was almost tangible.

"Dwalin! Glóin!" Thorin called then, and Kíli faintly heard the two dwarves call back. Soon their forms emerged from the nearby wood, and they dashed towards the scene before them.

"Dwalin, with Bofur," Thorin ordered. "Get Fíli to the jail and for _Mahal's_ sake, don't let him get away. Glóin, get your brother and meet me at my house. We need him immediately."

Dwalin and Glóin nodded, both of their gazes straying to where Kíli lay wheezing in the grass. Then they did as they were told, Glóin dashing off and Dwalin taking over for Bofur in keeping Fíli compliant. He growled something that Kíli could not hear in Fíli's ear; suddenly Fíli went pale and stopped fighting, and Dwalin and Bofur led him away between them. Thorin turned back to his youngest nephew, but for a moment, his gaze was unfocused, and he stared out into nothing; the broken, betrayed look on his face was so unrestrained, so acute, that for a moment, Kíli was afraid. He didn't know why, but that look frightened him in a way he had never felt before.

Then the expression disappeared, and Thorin set his eyes on Kíli. He ran over and knelt at his side.

"You're going to be all right," he said, his voice wavering. "I've got you, my boy. How's your breathing?"

Kíli shook his head and wheezed. He raised his hands weakly to sign. _I can't breathe._

"Do you think you can walk?"

Kíli tried lifting his head, and the world spun around him. He dropped back into the grass and groaned, shaking his head.

Thorin wasted no time in scooping Kíli into his arms; he held him close to his chest and ran clumsily with his burden. Kíli tried not to think about the scorching fire in his lungs as he was bounced along, but every breath was agony, and he wished that the pain would just stop.

He wished everything would stop.

* * *

Kíli was frozen to the spot.

A wolf prowled a little distance away, far too close for comfort, eyeing Fíli and Kíli hungrily. _I've done it now,_ Kíli thought. _It knows I can't run. I'm wolf food._

"What is it?" Fíli said, following Kíli's gaze over his shoulder and stiffening as he saw what Kíli saw.

"It's fine," Kíli whispered, trying to sound calm and failing miserably. "It's all right... right? It hasn't seen us."

"Shut up," Fíli hissed. "It's looking straight at us. Of course it's seen us." He stepped in front of his little brother, pushing the brunet firmly behind him. Kíli's bow dangled loosely from his fingers.

"Shoot it," Kíli whispered frantically. He knew Fíli wouldn't want to, but they didn't have a choice. In his condition, there was no way that Kíli could handle a bow. His fingers twitched.

Immediately Fíli's head began to shake violently, and Kíli reached for his arm and squeezed. It was supposed to be reassuring, but it seemed desperate even to Kíli.

"Fíli, I can't shoot," he said, pushing down his frustration. He knew Fíli was scared, and it would be no good to overwhelm him. "You're going to have to do it. It's going to come after us. Look at it."

Fíli shook his head again, and Kíli held back a groan. They were going to _die_ \- the wolf was prowling closer now. Kíli wished he could use his own bow; if he weren't so badly injured, the wolf would be dead by now. Either Fíli overcame this fear or they were both going to die at the jaws of this wolf. Or, at least, Kíli was. There was no way he could outrun the beast with his injury.

"Fíli, don't be foolish! I'm fine. I'm back here. Now _use the bow._ "

Suddenly Fíli's demeanor changed; he straightened, and his head cocked to one side loosely.

"All right," Fíli said, shrugging off Kíli's hand. "All right, I will." Slowly he raised the bow and fitted it with an arrow, but he did not aim at the wolf. He turned, slowly, until the arrow was pointed at Kíli.

"Fíli, what are you _doing_?" Kíli cried, dodging out of the way, but Fíli adjusted his aim to point at his brother again. Kíli's heart was thumping in his ears loudly, and he felt cold with fear.

Fíli said nothing; his eyes narrowed, and his lips curled into a cruel smirk. Kíli backed away, hands raised in surrender. He dared to glance past Fíli to the wolf, but it was gone. The only threat now was one that he never would have guessed and never would have believed. Tears built in his eyes, and he gasped harshly in terror.

"Please, Fíli, stop this," he begged.

" _Pathetic_ ," Fíli murmured, and then he released the arrow.

Kíli awoke with a panicked gasp, and instantly piercing pain in his left side followed. He let out a strangled cry and his arms flailed, his hands coming in contact with a body, and instinctively he latched on, his fingers curling into the fabric of someone's shirt. Someone else's hands pulled his fingers away, and whoever was carrying him laid him down on something soft - a bed. _His_ bed. He wheezed harshly, every breath like a dagger to his chest.

"It's all right, Kíli!" said a deep voice. Thorin's voice. "You're safe. We've got you. We've got you."

He was panicking. Kíli knew he was panicking, but that awareness did nothing to stop it from happening. He gasped again, and his chest flooded with pain that overwhelmed his other senses. Blindly he reached out for someone, anyone - someone to hold on to. He was dying - he knew he was dying. Was he dying? Memories and sensations mixed and mingled, leaving Kíli confused. He was cold, so cold; his teeth chattered and his body trembled, and the constant stabbing pain in his chest left him breathless.

"Get him out of those wet clothes and under the covers," ordered a familiar voice that Kíli recognized as Óin. _Wet clothes?_ When had he gotten wet? He had been in bed for weeks, hadn't he? Hands pulled at him, peeling off his tunic and trousers and undergarments, and blankets were hastily pulled over him. Vaguely Kíli was aware that he should be mortified by this treatment, but his thoughts were in such a disarray that he couldn't bring himself to care. He struggled to remember what was going on around him through the fog of pain and confusion.

His left side hurt terribly - _so_ terribly. In fact, his entire chest burned, and Kíli remembered this pain. Pneumonia - he had pneumonia, didn't he? He was dying. No, he _had_ died, and then he had woken up. Fíli had been so angry that he would surrender - he had shouted at him. _How many times do I have to watch you die, Kíli? How many times do I have to watch you give up and hope that someone is there to keep you alive? Tell me now, just so I know when I should give up on_ you _._

"F-Fíli," Kíli croaked.

"Not now, Kíli. Just relax," said Thorin.

"Where?" Kíli said. Full sentences took too much breath.

"Where what?" Thorin said, sitting down on the bed.

"Where's... Fíli?" he said. _Mahal_ , he hated this pain. He wanted Fíli by his side. He needed to apologize. Didn't he need to apologize? He wasn't sure.

"He's not coming anywhere near you," Thorin said bitterly.

Confused, Kíli pulled his hands out from under the blanket to sign in Iglishmêk.

_Why?_

"Thorin, I need to look him over," said Óin impatiently. "He's having far too much trouble breathing, even given the circumstances."

"Don't you remember?" Thorin said, ignoring Óin and studying Kíli's face worriedly.

Kíli stared at his uncle and searched his jumbled thoughts for the answer. What _did_ he remember? He remembered pain in his side from the arrow wound... everything had gone wrong since then. He had caught pneumonia, and now he was dying. Fíli had driven himself to sickness with worry and guilt...

He raised his hands shakily to sign – breathing was still too difficult – and then stopped, staring at his left hand; his fingers curled and twitched and didn't easily obey the signals he sent to them. Alarmed, he looked up at Thorin, who in turn got up immediately to let Óin sit at the bedside. He took Kíli's left hand and examined it carefully, and then pulled out a pin and poked the tips of Kíli's fingers, nodding when his patient hissed and pulled back.

"Make a fist," he said.

Kíli curled his fingers into a fist with a small amount of difficulty, and Óin nodded again.

"Now stretch out your fingers."

Kíli did as he was told, grunting as his fingers wavered instead of stretching out completely, but Óin seemed satisfied.

"Probably temporary," he assessed. "But I'll keep an eye on it." He gave Kíli back his hand, and Kíli looked to Thorin worriedly.

 _Fíli's sick,_ he signed.

"That's one way of putting it," Thorin growled.

What on earth was Thorin talking about? Where was Fíli?

 _I need to tell him I'm sorry,_ Kíli signed.

"Thorin, talk to him later," Óin said in a warning tone.

Thorin reluctantly stepped back towards the door, looking at his nephew with the most curious look. Kíli stared back at his uncle.

"Out," Óin ordered. "I'll call you back in after."

With one last glance, Thorin left the room, and Kíli and Óin were alone.

"Look at me, lad," Óin said. "Tell me what is going on. Where does it hurt?"

Kíli gave Óin an incredulous look and pulled down the sheets to his waist. He looked down at his arrow-wound, and then paused; there were no bandages, and the wound was long-since healed. Only a white scar remained.

"Kíli, for Mahal's sake," said Óin in utter shock. "Why wouldn't you tell me it still bothered you?"

Kíli barely heard Óin's rebuke as he stared down at his scar. His confused thoughts came together then, and he felt a cold chill of horror sweep through his entire body. He wasn't dying of pneumonia. That was thirty-seven years ago. His dream had swept him into the past, and now he realized what he had just done. Thirty-seven years of secrets crumbled away in an instant, but the horror was short-lived. A second icy chill swept through him as another realization assaulted his mind.

_Fíli tried to kill me._

Kíli was unpleasantly forced back into the present as he remembered Fíli holding him down in the water, _drowning_ him, telling him _you're not going to follow me anymore_. He remembered giving in and allowing himself to drown. If he had to live in a world without Fíli, he would rather not live at all. But he was alive – still alive – and Fíli was gone forever. Fíli _hated_ him. Fíli wanted him _dead._

Kíli wanted to be dead.

Silent tears fell down Kíli's cheeks, and he fell limp, closing his eyes and turning his head away from the old apothecary. He didn't care anymore. The pain could continue forever, and he wouldn't care. He could lose his eyesight and his hearing and his ability to speak, and he wouldn't care. The world could burn down around him, and it wouldn't matter in the slightest. Kíli had already lost everything. Kíli had already lost Fíli.

"No, no, no, stay with me," Óin said, pulling Kíli's face towards him. "Look at me. This is _important._ "

Kíli opened his eyes and stared at Óin morosely, but he said nothing. The only sound he made was the labored wheezing that meant he was regrettably still alive. Óin looked at him for a moment, tight-lipped, but Kíli simply closed his eyes again. A moment later his left eyelid was being pulled open, and Óin was staring into it; then he did the same with his right. Kíli suffered the indignity with indifference, letting Óin do as he wished. He didn't care anymore. Fingers were pressed lightly to the side of his head, and he hissed involuntarily as the pressure stung.

"The whole right side of your face is black and blue, lad," Óin said. "How many times did he hit you?"

Kíli didn't want to answer. He didn't want to do anything, but Óin pressed again: "How many times, Kíli?"

With reluctance Kíli slowly signed back, forcing his left hand to work as well as he could. _Punched, three. Kicked, once._

Óin made a disapproving sound in the back of his throat and took Kíli's head in his hands, studying the right side closely. His rough thumb brushed an especially sensitive spot, and Kíli hissed again; Óin pulled his thumb away, revealing a flash of bright red against his skin. Quickly the grey dwarf reached into his bag and pulled out a bottle and a roll of cloth and set to work, applying slave to his patient's head and then wrapping it in the long bandage. Kíli closed his eyes as Óin worked and wished for sleep to come, but infuriatingly, it eluded him. Óin finally set his head back down on the pillow and snapped his fingers close to Kíli's nose; the brunet opened his eyes begrudgingly.

"I'm going to ask you some questions that I need you to answer," he said kindly. "First off. What is your name?"

Kíli merely glared and said nothing. He wasn't going to play these games. He didn't _care_ anymore.

"Your name," Óin prompted again, but still Kíli was silent. Óin sighed and frowned at his patient; then, seeming to give up for the time being, he turned his attention to Kíli's torso. Lightly he pressed on each of Kíli's ribs, searching for fractures. He went up the right side without incident, then started down the left. With a furtive glance at the young dwarf, he pressed on the scar over his ribs, and pain lanced through Kíli's side and cut off his ability to breathe. Kíli lifted his knees instinctively and struggled to pull in any air at all, but he was stuck. He smacked Óin's hand away and covered the spot with his hand, rolling onto his side away from the old dwarf and gasping painfully.

"You could have told me," Óin said sadly. "I'd have helped you, had I known."

Kíli ignored him and pressed his wrist into his bandaged forehead. _I don't care I don't care I don't care,_ he thought. _Go away._

He heard Óin's footsteps leaving the room, and for a moment, all was silent; then he heard Óin speaking in the kitchen to Thorin and Dís.

"He'll live," Óin started. "Definitely a concussion, but he won't speak to me, so I can't determine how bad it is. He's having difficulty moving his left hand, as you saw, Thorin – probably related to his head injury. I think he was confused when he first awoke… he seemed to think he was still a young lad, suffering from pneumonia. He knows where he is now." He paused. "Moreover, I believe the water in his lungs damaged his breathing and irritated his arrow-wound. He seemed to be aware of it – did either of you know if it had been bothering him?"

 _No no no no no,_ Kíli screamed in his head. _They can't know._ But then another thought occurred to him – he had been keeping this secret for so long to protect _Fíli_ , not them. Fíli was the one who had shot him. Kíli didn't blame him for the accident, but he knew that Fíli would never stop blaming himself, and he would be completely crippled by the guilt if he knew that it still bothered him. But now Fíli was gone, and he had no reason to hide anymore. Who cared if Thorin and Dís knew? Fíli didn't even remember doing it now.

"I had a suspicion," Thorin said, much to Kíli's surprise. "I didn't want to believe it – and I wanted to protect Fíli… but after he almost drowned last week, I could tell something more was going on."

"He told me that it hurt when he couldn't remember anything," Dís added. "He said it was a sharp pain."

"And neither of you thought to tell me?" Óin scolded.

"He wouldn't tell us if we confronted him about it," Thorin countered. "What were we to do?"

It was true. If they had asked, Kíli would have completely denied it.

Óin sighed. "I'm going to mix something for him to drink," he said. "See if you can get him to talk to you. I need to know how bad that concussion is."

Kíli cringed as he heard his mother and his uncle enter the bedroom. He lay still, ignoring them, as Thorin sat down on the bed behind him and Dís took the space in front of him. Gentle but calloused hands pulled his arm away from his forehead, and then Dís's hand was gently stroking the unbruised side of his face.

"Kíli, open your eyes," she said softly.

Slowly Kíli obeyed, raising his gaze to meet his mother's. Her expression quickly became alarmed as she looked into Kíli's eyes, and she glanced up at Thorin briefly. Then her gaze returned to her son, and she put on an insincere smile.

"My love, we need to know how bad your head is," Dís said. "You don't have to speak if you don't want to. You can use Iglishmêk if it hurts to talk. Take your time."

So there was no getting out of this. Kíli nodded his head lightly.

"Tell us your name."

Kíli pulled his right hand away from his ribs and signed his name, avoiding using his left hand as much as he could manage. _Kíli._

"Can you tell me what my name is?"

 _Dís,_ Kíli signed.

"And your uncle?"

Kíli rolled his eyes and signed _Thorin_ , throwing in _Oakenshield_ for good measure.

"How old are you?"

For a moment, Kíli was confused, and he furrowed his brow; then he remembered and signed _sixty-two_.

"Hm," Dís said, eyeing him skeptically. Kíli closed his eyes. He was done with questions, and he wanted everyone to go away.

"Tell us what happened," said Thorin.

"Thorin!" Dís warned.

"You're supposed to ask when someone has a concussion," Thorin said pointedly. "Now – please, tell us what happened."

"No," Kíli said. He didn't _want_ to remember.

"Kíli, you need to talk to us," Thorin said. "This is important."

Kíli buried his face into Dís's leg and moaned despondently, but his mother did not comfort him. Instead, she pulled him into a sitting position, setting up pillows behind him, and looked at him expectantly. Kíli looked at his kin stonily and said nothing.

"I'll tell you what _we_ know," Thorin said. "I sent Bofur in early because I had a bad feeling… and I was right. He came and got me immediately when he discovered that you both were gone, and I called together whoever I could get – only Dwalin and Glóin, as it turned out. We split up and went on a search, and found you…" Thorin's voice broke, and he looked down. "Bofur pulled Fíli off of you. I thought you were dead," Thorin said. "You weren't breathing."

Kíli stared at Thorin, muted emotions stirring in his heart. _I don't care anymore I don't care anymore,_ he said to himself, but he knew it wasn't true. It hurt, and he couldn't stop that.

"Now fill in the blanks," Thorin said. "Please. For your sake and for ours."

Kíli sank into the pillows behind him and avoided looking at his uncle and his mother. "Kíli, please talk to us," Thorin pleaded.

Kíli glared at him.

"And then we'll leave you alone," Dís added.

Kíli acquiesed reluctantly and began to sign with some difficulty. He would keep it short – then they would leave him alone, and he could go back to trying not to exist.

 _He tricked me,_ he began. _He said he remembered me and he didn't. He beat me and ran away, and I followed him to the creek. Then he beat me again and pulled me into the creek._

Kíli signed flatly, reporting the events without emotion. He was too tired and in too much pain to care anymore; in that moment, he decided to push the anguish away and allow numbness to overtake his heart. Thorin and Dís watched him warily, their blue eyes matching in dismay and alarm at Kíli's demeanor. When he had finished, they exchanged glances, and Kíli could sense what they were thinking. They had never seen him like this before; he had never been like this before. He had never been without Fíli before, and numbness felt like his only choice, since death did not seem to be an option.

Óin entered the room then with a mug in his hand and held it out for Kíli to take. Kíli eyed it warily, raising an eyebrow at the old dwarf. Anything made by him tended to taste awful, and he would rather not if he could get away with it.

"It's tea," Óin said. "A few herbs to ease your breathing, and a painkiller for good measure. Don't worry, it's tasteless."

 _For once._ Kíli reached out for the mug and drank, and to his surprise, the tea wasn't horrible. It didn't taste delicious, but it wasn't that bad, either. He avoided the eyes boring into him and finished it quickly, then handed the mug back to Óin, who smiled and set it down on the bedside table. Already his breathing was easier, though his lungs still burned and his left side still throbbed with piercing pain; he took a few experimental breaths, wincing when he reached his pain threshhold.

"Take it easy, Kíli," Óin said. "Stay in bed and rest." He looked at Kíli with narrowed eyes, as if he could see the numbness overtaking the young dwarf, and Kíli shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. "One of you should stay with him," he continued. "Wake him every few hours and ask him questions to make sure the concussion isn't getting worse."

Dís nodded gratefully to her cousin. "Thank you, Óin," she said. "We'll make sure he is taken care of."

"Please call for me if anything changes," Óin said, chancing a look at Kíli, who was startled to see an actual glint of worry in the typically phlegmatic dwarf's eyes. Then he dipped his head towards his kin and left the room.

"I'll stay with him for now," Dís said to Thorin. Her brother nodded and stood, rubbing his beard and looking at his nephew dolefully. He trudged out of the room slowly and closed the door behind him.

"You heard Óin, my love," Dís said, laying a hand on Kíli's arm. "Just rest for now. I'll be here."

Kíli gave his mother a melancholy look, and then he leaned back against the pillows and closed his eyes, irritated. He wanted to be _alone._ He wanted to lie down and – well, he didn't know what he wanted to do. He wanted everything to stop, he supposed, but that was impossible. Whether or not Fíli was at his side, the world went on, and he had to go on with it.

The only problem was he didn't know how.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so here's the deal. I'll try to write the next chapter as soon as I can, but it's quite possible that it might take a while to get out. I am moving to a new apartment on Friday, and then the following Wednesday through Monday I'll be traveling to New York to visit my family. So I'll be very busy. But if I get any spare time, I'll certainly be writing!


	15. Perspectives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A break from Kíli's POV as we look into what's going on with Thorin, Dís, and Fíli.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize to all of you on AO3 for forgetting about you when I posted this chapter. Here it is. 
> 
> This is not... a real chapter. Like, it is, but it isn't. This is a side piece entitled "Perspectives", but I wanted you all to see it and I didn't want anyone to miss it, so I'm posting it as a chapter instead of a separate piece like I did with Fighting the Darkness.
> 
> What we've got here is... perspectives. I needed to do this for myself, to get into the characters' heads and see what's going on in there, so I can progress with the story more easily. I started with Thorin, then wrote Dís, then Fíli. I didn't do Kíli because we've been in his head from the get-go, and we'll return to him in the next chapter.
> 
> I hope you get some good insight! I'm kind of torn about Fíli's because it reveals some things I didn't want to reveal until later, but that's fine. You can have them now. It'll help you make sense of things, I think.

**Thorin**

Thorin was lost.

Loss was not new to Thorin – he had lost many that he held dear. His father, Thrain. His grandfather, Thror. His brother, Frerin. Countless friends and kin in the sack of Erebor, wandering in the wilderness, and everything that unfolded thereafter. But nothing, absolutely nothing, could compare to the loss of the lights of his life – his sun and his moon – his Fíli and his Kíli.

Betrayal burned hot, burning, scalding through Thorin's veins. He knew that Fíli didn't know who he was, that he was afraid and angry, but he could not stop the flood of betrayal that throbbed in his head and made his hands shake when he dwelt upon it for too long. The _treason,_ the _treachery_ that Fíli had committed – Thorin could not even wrap his mind around it. The one person who had vowed to protect Kíli with his life had been the one to nearly bring about his demise. Never, in all the ages of Middle-Earth, would Thorin have thought such a thing possible. Fíli was stalwart and steadfast, always loyal and always dependable. He was a rock, never swaying from the path that Thorin laid out for him. But no longer. His sun – his golden-haired boy with eyes the color of the sky – was gone, and a dark-eyed monster had taken his place.

And Kíli knew it. His young nephew, so full of vibrant joy in the darkest of times, had given up. He had said next to nothing, but Thorin could see it in his eyes. The light had died. Kíli knew what Thorin had been trying to ignore – Fíli was gone, and there was little hope of bringing him back. Whatever had happened out there in that cave seemed to be permanent, and Kíli knew it. He had held on to hope for so long, and now his faith had been completely and utterly destroyed, leaving nothing but a broken shell where a bright light once had been. Fíli had taken any and all hope with him into the creek, and nothing had come back out.

Thorin hated what he saw in his nephews' eyes. He hated the anger and hatred that burned in Fíli's unnaturally dark gaze. He hated the dead, lost look that shadowed Kíli's face. Fíli and Kíli were still with him in body, but in spirit he had lost them both – and that was what hurt the most. He could see them, hear them, touch them, smell them, but still they were not there. They were lost, and without them, Thorin had been deprived of the light of his life. He felt more lost himself than he ever had, even in the years following the sack of Erebor or the Battle of Azanulbizar. The sun and the moon were gone, and the stars were veiled from his sight; there was nothing left for Thorin in the dark and weary land.

For the first time his long life, Thorin did not know what to do.

* * *

**Dís**

Never had Dís thought that it would come to this.

Fíli was her golden boy, whose long blond waves reminded her every day of the husband she had lost. In the weeks and months following his death, she had often sneaked into Fíli and Kíli's bedroom in the night hours as they slept and stroked that beautiful hair, weeping. Fíli would never wake, heavy sleeper as he was, but sometimes her quiet sniffles would wake Kíli. He would lift his unruly mop of hair and look up at his mother with impossibly wide brown eyes that seemed identical to her husband's, and Dís would weep all the more; then the toddler would untangle himself from his brother's arms and snuggle up in Dís's lap, wrapping his tiny arms as far as he could around her torso. There he would fall asleep again, his head resting on her bosom, and she would smile through her tears and kiss his dark little head.

Those nights were more precious to her than gold. Through all the hurt and loss she had endured, she had her two boys, her promises of joy in dark times, and she had thought that nothing could have stolen that from her.

But she had been wrong.

When Kíli had brought Fíli back unconscious, fear had ravaged Dís's heart. Her entire run home after her encounter with Gimli had been a terrible storm of _what-if_ s that shook her to the core. She would not lose her golden boy, her eldest, so strong and proud, yet gentle and humble. Not then. Not ever. And then to learn of his condition when she came home – it had almost been too much. Fíli's screams had pierced her heart and left it open and bleeding. She had cried for a long time in Thorin's strong arms as he held her close and stroked her hair, kissing the top of her head and whispering promises. _We will fix this. We will solve this. Do not despair, Sister._

She had held on to that promise, but things had only gotten worse. Fíli had not recovered. He was frightened and alone, and he was lashing out – but there was something darker, more sinister beneath that, and it frightened her. She had seen the fear in Thorin's eyes, and she knew that he understood the same. She hated seeing her firstborn in a jail cell, his shining braids dirty and disheveled, and a snarl upon his fair face. He was hiding his fear, she knew; Fíli couldn't hide the tear tracks on his face and the way he held his pillow while he slept. She longed to gather him in her arms and hold him tight, to tell him _it's all right; we will solve this_ , but he would scorn her embrace. He had pushed everyone away.

She had been so proud of Kíli. He was stubborn, to be sure – foolishly so – but his unwavering love and support for his brother was admirable. Even in the midst of his foolishness, running off to confront whatever deplorable creature had harmed Fíli, she had been proud. He was rash and reckless, but it came out of a love and loyalty that reminded her sharply of Frerin. Thorin, of course, had always been analytical and introspective, but Frerin had been much like Kíli was now. Fiercely loyal and proud, overflowing with love and a foolish optimism.

Perhaps that was what killed him in the end. Dís knew that she should not encourage such behavior, but she missed Frerin, and she would not relinquish what brought him to mind. Kíli was Kíli, and she would have nothing less. That was why the dying light in her youngest's eyes pierced her so deeply.

When Óin had finally let her in to speak to her baby boy, she had not expected the dull, hopeless look that clouded Kíli's gaze. Without his brother, Kíli was lost and alone and without purpose. It terrified her and it rent her heart. No longer did her cheerful, beautiful, reckless boy peer out from behind those eyes. All that remained was a shell whose soul had been ripped out and left in the water. Though he had not said it, Dís could see it in his eyes: _I would rather be dead._

So both Fíli and Kíli were gone. She had her boys in body, but not in spirit, and she longed for them. For each other's sake, but also for her brother's sake. They were the lights of his life, and without them, Dís feared for his mind. They had both lost so much – perhaps she even more, with her husband dead – but it weighed heavier on Thorin's shoulders. He felt a greater part of the weight of responsibility for all that had happened, and he held grief close to the heart and did not let go.

But most of all, perhaps selfishly, Dís needed her sons back for herself. No mother was meant to lose her children, in body or in spirit. She needed her boys for so many reasons. She needed the joy they brought to her life; she needed the love and affection they gave; she needed the living memories of those she had lost. She needed Fíli and Kíli simply because they were Fíli and Kíli, and they were irreplaceable.

She needed a solution, but she had none. All she knew to do was to be there for the family she had left, broken or not. She would bring food and kindness to Fíli, regardless of how he treated her. She would love and care for Kíli, though he no longer cared for himself. She would be a support for Thorin, though she was crumbling inside. She was a Dwarf, after all, and a woman besides. She would carry the weight with love and longsuffering – to whatever end.

* * *

**Fíli**

Darkness pressed in on every side, and Fíli was terrified.

There were no memories in Fíli's mind. Nothing that stretched beyond the past few days, anyhow. All he could remember was waking up, being restrained and confined, and then when he tried to escape, he was drugged and he woke up in jail. There he had been ever since, and things had only gotten worse since then. Someone - probably their leader, Thorin - had clearly arranged shifts so that someone was at the jail, staring at him and making sure that he didn't try to escape. It was infuriating. He hated their stares. They were not his company. They were his guards.

He was alone.

Anything beyond waking up screaming three days before was locked behind a thick, dark wall in Fíli's mind. He had no idea who he was or where he was from. He didn't know if he had any family or where they might be. Why was he here? How had he lost his memories? Where was he before? He had a suspicion that his jailers had something to do with it, and he didn't trust them in the slightest. Whatever they had done to him had worked, and that was what terrified him the most.

He had a vague memory of some horror happening in Kíli's presence - he could remember screaming and cowering in the corner of the jail cell, but not much more. If it were possible to trust him any less than he did the others, he would. Thorin may have been the leader, but it was clearly Kíli who had started it all. The young dwarf had some kind of power that Fíli could not comprehend, and though he refused to show it, he was afraid of him. At the same time, however, he felt such a strong animosity towards the brunet that the mere sight of him was enough to make Fíli want to snuff the light out of his wide brown eyes. He tried to keep him away with insults and threats of violence - which seemed to work for a little while, at least - but Kíli was determined. Whatever he had started, he wanted to finish it.

That was the reason he had tried to kill the stupid young dwarf. He had seemed so cunning at first, but Fíli had quickly realized that Kíli thought his tricks had worked, and Fíli would 'remember' him as his brother. He doubted Kíli was even the dwarf's real name - just another trick to try to fool him. But he wasn't fooled. The idea had come to him suddenly. If he pretended the trick had worked, Kíli would probably let him out; it hadn't taken him long to figure out that he was a rash and reckless dwarf, and Kíli had played perfectly into his trap. Of course, he knew that Kíli would try to follow him, which was why he beat him before running away - but clearly he hadn't beaten him enough, and Fíli had had to resort to more drastic measures. He hadn't expected anyone to find them, though, and that one factor had foiled his entire plan. Kíli was still alive and he was back in jail under an even more severe watch than before.

So now he was trapped. These people who claimed to be his kin kept him locked up and under watch. They could try to lie to him and 'bring him around', but he refused to fall for their lies. Family didn't do this to family. They were cunning and crafty, these people, and he meant to keep them out of his head as much as he could. They pretended to be worried and sad, but he knew they weren't. They hated him, and they wanted him to suffer.

If Fíli could have his own way, he would be far from these people. He didn't know where he would go or what he would do, but he wanted as much distance between him and them - especially Kíli - as possible. He just wished he could remember where he had come from. Surely someone missed him. Somebody out there somewhere was wondering where he was and when he would return. He longed to find somewhere safe, with people he loved and trusted, but he had no idea where to start or if he would ever find them at all. For all he knew, he was far from home, but in the inky darkness of his mind, he could not recall where any other dwarves would be. He was stuck here, with darkness and angry glares and indescribable fear for company.

Fíli felt so alone.


	16. Breaking Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIVE! I know, it's getting longer and longer between updates and they're disappointingly short but I PROMISE THE STORY IS GONNA GO CRAZY AFTER THIS YOU'LL LOVE IT. I just have to find time to write it. Special thanks to my lovely tumblr friend the-iridescent-blue-morpho for being my beta on this chapter - and as always to Mhyin for being a willing victim of my ideas as I puke them out trying to come up with content for the chapters. Go check her blog on tumblr! She's got chapters 1-5 drawn. And maybe 6? I can't remember. Probably just up to 5. Anyway. Go look!

For three days, Kíli slept.

At first, sleep had been easy. His body had been through quite a lot, after all, and it needed to recover; in fact, what had been difficult was waking up. The first day after his near-drowning had been frustrating – all he wanted to do was sleep, to forget, and yet every few hours either Thorin or Dís would wake him up and ask him questions. _What is your name? What is my name? How old are you?_ They didn't ask him again about what happened, thankfully. He wanted to stay as far away from that topic as possible, a fact of which they both seemed to be aware. At first he had forgotten a few mundane things, which frustrated him – he had had quite enough of memory loss by now. He had had quite enough of a lot of things. Eventually, though, his mind cleared, and the only evidence of his injury was the dark, ugly bruise that enveloped the entire right side of his face.

Óin also was in and out, checking on his head and making sure his breathing was all right. He wished the old dwarf would stop fussing over him – if he didn't care, then why should anyone else? He was forced to drink teas mixed with medicines for two days until his pain reduced to a more manageable level; then Óin seemed to be satisfied with the recovery process and left him alone. Once his kin were sure the concussion had subsided, they all left him alone for longer stretches of time, and he dropped into dreamless bliss for as long as he possibly could, glad to be alone.

When he wasn't asleep and no one was fussing over him, he didn't do much of anything at all. He didn't eat and he rarely drank. Sometimes he would sit in the living room and stare into nothing, trying to think about nothing; sometimes he would sneak outside and watch life go by, trying to figure out how it was possible to go along with it. He never went far, but still his family seemed to panic every time he left the house. Eventually Dís would come running out, searching wildly to the left and right before her gaze rested on her youngest. Then her blue eyes would soften, and she would coax him back inside and beg him not to scare her like that again. As if going outside were a life-threatening thing. He supposed he hadn't set the most trustworthy record.

He could see the worry in their eyes. He could hear the anxious whispers outside his door when he was supposed to be asleep; they thought they were quiet, but he could hear them.

"He still isn't eating."

"I know, Dís. I can see that."

"Well, what are we going to do?"

"We can't force him to eat."

Kíli listened with indifference. It wasn't that he was starving himself – he wasn't. He just didn't bother to eat. He wasn't hungry. His family just didn't seem to be able to grasp the concept that he didn't _care_ anymore. If he was hungry, he would eat. If he was tired, he would sleep. But continuing on with life the way it had been before was impossible. That life was gone, just like Fíli; the world was strange and foreign, and Kíli did not know how to navigate through it.

By the fifth day, Thorin and Dís had apparently had enough.

Late in the afternoon, Dís found Kíli outside, leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed, staring out into nothing. He heard the door open and close to his left, but he continued staring straight ahead; not until Dís touched his arm did he turn to look at her.

"Kíli, come inside," said Dís gently.

Kíli didn't move. Dís tugged on his arm.

"Your uncle and I want to talk to you," she said. "Come inside. Now."

Kíli let out a sigh and let Dís pull him inside, where his uncle was standing in the kitchen, leaning back against the table and watching him with stern blue eyes. Dís settled beside him, and Kíli leaned back against the wall by the front door. Thorin offered his nephew a soft smile that Kíli did not return; instead, he looked away, avoiding everyone's gaze. He could feel their stares boring into him, but he said nothing, waiting for someone to speak.

Finally, Dís broke the silence.

"We're worried about you," she began. "You're not taking care of yourself, love. You've spoken barely a word since – well."

Kíli shifted uncomfortably.

"It's so unlike you," she continued. "I just want my boy back. What can I do to help you, Kíli?"

Kíli finally looked up, turning his gaze meaningfully onto Thorin. There was only one thing he wanted – only one thing he needed.

"Can you get Fíli back?" he said.

Thorin's mouth dropped open as he struggled to find words.

"Kíli…" he said hesitantly. "I promise you, I will do – I _am_ doing – everything I can to get Fíli back."

A spark of anger lit in Kíli's heart. That was a lie. Thorin wasn't _trying_. He hadn't _done_ anything. He swallowed and closed his eyes, pushing the feeling down as best he could. _I don't care anymore._

"Kíli?" said Dís nervously, but Kíli ignored her and addressed Thorin instead.

"Don't lie," he said, his voice already shaking. It felt so _odd_ – feeling something, anything, after the past five days. But he was _angry_. He was tired of lies. Fíli had lied to him, and he had almost died because he had believed him. Now Thorin was lying to him, too, as if that would make anything better. If he wasn't going to do anything, he should just say so – false hope was no hope at all, and he refused to be deceived.

"I told you, I promised," Thorin said, but Kíli clenched his teeth and shook his head. The spark in his heart was quickly growing to a flame, and he wasn't sure he could control it for much longer. He couldn't speak; if he spoke, everything would come tumbling out. Everything. His fingers began to tremble.

"Are you all right?" said Dís. Kíli pressed himself back into the wall and crossed his arms protectively over his chest, keeping his eyes squeezed shut. _I don't care anymore I don't care I don't care,_ he thought, but he could not stop the flames that licked up to his head now. He could hear them crackling and roaring, and his face grew warm as he fought against this violent emotion that tried to take him over.

"Please talk to us, Kíli," said Thorin. "We want to help you."

It was too much. Something snapped, and before Kíli even understood what he was doing, he had launched himself at Thorin, his fist flying towards his uncle's jaw. He made contact with a loud _thud_ , and Dís let out a cry of shock and pulled him back before he could land another punch. Kíli struggled against her grip, but he could not get free; Thorin stared at him, wide-eyed, one hand over his jaw.

" _Help_ me?" he shouted hoarsely. "This is all your _fault_! If you had just _listened_ to me in the first place, this never would have happened! Fíli would be _fine_! All you had to do was _listen_ to me! You _never – ever – listen_!"

With a quick move that not even Dís could have anticipated, Kíli wrenched himself free and dove at Thorin again, burning with rage. This time, however, Thorin was prepared, and he caught his nephew's wrists before his fists could touch him again. Kíli pushed, but Thorin pushed back forcefully, and Kíli stumbled backwards. He tripped over his own feet and fell hard on his bottom, the force of his landing knocking all the wind out of him. Instantly Dís was at his side, but he rolled away from her onto his knees and touched his forehead to the floor, gasping painfully and covering his head with his hands. Moments passed in silence as nobody dared to move.

Suddenly his anger was overtaken by a violent wave of remorse and grief, vast and overwhelming and quenching his rage in an instant. His gasps turned into a silent cry, his mouth hanging open soundlessly; then a hoarse, animal sound emerged from his throat, long and wild and grieved. He took in a sharp breath and began to sob loudly, his body shaking and his fingers curling into his hair.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed. "I'm sorry – I'm so – so sorry – I d-didn't mean…" His voice dissolved into another keen as anguish rolled through him wave after wave. Everything that he had been forcing back into numbness was rushing at him at once – he had tried, he had tried _so_ hard, to keep this at bay, to tell himself that he didn't _care_ , but he did. He always had.

"Oh, Kíli, come here," said Dís, taking him by the arms. She pulled him up so that he was kneeling and settled on the floor in front of him, hugging his shaking frame tightly. Kíli held himself rigid, ashamed of his behavior. He didn't deserve to be comforted after such a heinous, disrespectful act.

"I'm sorry," he whimpered again. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so sorry—"

"Hush, now, my love," Dís whispered, and Kíli pressed his lips together and nodded, but he could not control himself. He felt so weary and defeated and helpless, and he was tired of holding it back. He had held everything in too long. So he let it out. He rested limply in his mother's arms and let the tears fall. He let his mouth hang open and he did not try to stop the awful sounds that left his lips. Fíli would call him _pathetic_ – and maybe he was. Pathetic without Fíli, anyway. He was only half there.

That was what hurt the most. He felt like a large part of him was missing without Fíli; he had never been without him. Not for very long, anyway – maybe a couple of days here or there, and even that had been strange to him. But this was something else entirely. And if he were honest with himself, it wasn't Thorin's fault at all. Kíli understood why he had had doubts. Thorin didn't have the connection with Fíli that Kíli had – that Kíli _used_ to have – so of course he wouldn't have felt the same sense of foreboding with Fíli's absence. Kíli knew whose fault it really was: his own. If he had not made Fíli angry, his brother would still be here, smiling and joking by his side. But Kíli had been a fool, and he had brought this upon himself. Now he truly felt like half of him was gone.

He cried like a child in his mother's arms for a long time. She simply held him close and kept silent, letting him cry as long as he needed to. Finally, after what felt like forever, his sobs quieted to hiccups and gasps, but still Dís did not let him go – and he didn't want her to. He was tired of being alone.

"U-uncle," he said suddenly. He lifted his chin to rest on Dís's shoulder, and Thorin crouched into view before him. His uncle's eyes were red, but there were no tears on his face.

"I-I'm sorry," he choked. "It's not – not your fault. You couldn't have known."

Thorin sighed and looked down briefly before meeting his nephew's eyes.

"No, you were right, Kíli. It _is_ my fault," Thorin said. "I should have listened to you. I am sorry I didn't believe you."

For a long moment, neither dwarf said anything. They simply looked at each other, seeking forgiveness in the other's eyes and finding it in abundance. Kíli closed his eyes again and buried his nose into Dís's neck with a shuddering sigh. He felt completely drained and he didn't feel any better about anything. He was painfully aware that nothing had changed just because he had snapped; the thought almost sent him back into tears, but Dís pulled back and took his face in her hands. She kissed his hair and then touched her forehead to his.

"Stop," she said simply.

Kíli nodded and took a deep breath to steady himself, wincing at the twinge in his side. His mother stood and held out her hands; he took them, and she helped him to his feet. Thorin pressed a handkerchief into his hand, and he took it gratefully and wiped his face clean.

"Don't lock yourself away," Thorin said, and Kíli paused and looked at him. His eyes were soft and sad. "I've seen many a dwarf lose themselves to madness in their grief, and I don't want the same to happen to you. You're – you're irreplaceable, Kíli."

Kíli wanted to speak, but he didn't trust himself with words just yet. Instead he nodded as he mulled over Thorin's words. _Grief._ Grief meant something had been lost and that it would never come back.

Suddenly a familiar feeling reared up in Kíli's mind – a feeling he had almost forgotten about in the past several days. _Stubbornness._ No – he would _not_ accept that Fíli was gone forever. He had let himself sink too far in the aftermath of Fíli's attack, but he would not sink so low again. He straightened his back and his shoulders and swallowed. Thorin had made him a promise, and now Kíli would make the same promise to himself. He would _never_ give up, _never_ , until he had gotten Fíli back or died trying. Not even if it took a hundred years. He would search, and he would fight, and he would go to Mordor itself and back if it meant that he could have his brother back again. Nothing and no one would stand in his way and succeed. He was going to _win_. He was going to save Fíli.

He owed his brother that much.


	17. Hope

“Anything?”

Thorin looked up from his books with both hands on his head. Kíli leaned on the frame of the doorway to his uncle’s study, rubbing his left arm, and Thorin sighed and removed his hands from his long hair.  He seemed to gauge his words carefully before he spoke.

“Kíli, give me _time_ ,” Thorin said gently. “This is not a situation I—or anyone else, for that matter—has dealt with before.”

Kíli pressed his lips together and gave a short nod, fighting the burning frustration in his chest. He knew he had to give Thorin time if they were going to get any answers at all, but all he could think about was Fíli alone in that jail cell, glaring out at the world, angry and confused.  It made his heart ache.

“Can I help?” he said.

“No,” Thorin said. “You need to rest. You’re still having trouble with your breathing—and you’re not fooling anyone with that hand of yours.”

“Reading doesn’t require perfectly functioning lungs. Or two hands,” Kíli challenged, rubbing his left hand self-consciously. He had almost regained complete function on his left side, but every once in a while, his fingers still wished to disobey him. It was maddening, and he hated being reminded of it.

“Well, for your mind, then,” Thorin countered. “You need to set it on something else for a while, lad.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Kíli said, fighting to keep his voice calm. “I’m just _sitting around_ —”

“Go find something to do, then,” Thorin snapped. Then a moment later he sighed and looked at his nephew apologetically. “Forgive me. I am not angry with you. I understand your frustration, Kíli.”

Kíli allowed a moment to pass. “Well, what have you got so far?” he said.

“ _Mahal_ , Kíli, _please_ ,” Thorin said. “I will let you know, but stop asking. This is difficult enough as it is. I feel like I’m researching children’s stories.”

Kíli blinked at the transparency with which Thorin spoke. Usually, his uncle tried to appear as if he had all the answers and knew exactly what to do. If he ever expressed doubts, he told Fíli, not Kíli, and they would come to a solution before Kíli ever became involved. Kíli tried not to be jealous when Fíli was called into their uncle’s counsel, but now he understood that it was not necessarily a matter of favorites. Knowing their unshakeable uncle was actually shakable was disconcerting.

“Y-you know they’re not, though,” Kíli said.

“Yes, I know that now,” Thorin said wearily. He started to rub his temples, staring again at the papers and books in front of him. “Unfortunately.”

“You’re _sure_ there’s nothing I can—”

“For the love of Eru, Kíli!” Thorin said, turning a stormy gaze onto his nephew. “Leave me in peace just for a little while! Get out of the house if you must. Go visit someone. And not Fíli, before you ask. Just _find something else to do_.”

“Sorry,” Kíli said meekly, ducking his head. He turned away, tapping absentmindedly on the wood, and then he left his uncle alone.

 _Not Fíli._ He was still banned from seeing his brother, then. Not that Fíli would want to see him, anyway— _You shouldn’t even_ want _to see him,_ his mind said.  _He tried to kill you._

 _Fíli wouldn’t do that,_ another part of him immediately replied. _He didn’t know what he was doing._ But Kíli knew that wasn’t exactly true. Fíli knew _exactly_ what he was doing when he pushed Kíli into the water; he just didn’t know who Kíli was. If Fíli had known, he never would have tried to kill him.

Right?

 _No_ , he told himself adamantly. Fíli was his _brother_. Fíli _loved_ him. Fíli always said that Kíli was his favorite person in the whole world. Why would he want him dead? Kíli dismissed the thought as quickly as he could. Something deeper had happened to Fíli than had happened to Kíli. He hadn’t just _forgotten_ ; he had _changed_ , and not for the better. He leaned against the wall and squeezed his eyes tight, trying to take in calming breaths. His left side ached.

“Kíli?”

For a moment, Kíli ignored the voice, but then a large hand landed on his shoulder. He opened his eyes to see Thorin’s worried gaze looking down at him.

“I meant what I said. Take your mind off your troubles for a while.”

“But Uncle—”

“Don’t argue,” Thorin interrupted. “Do as I say.”

Kíli sighed and nodded in resignation. “Where should I go?” he said.

“How about going to see Bofur and Bombur?” Thorin suggested. “If anyone can… cheer you up… it’s them.”

A hint of a smile played on Kíli’s lips. “I suppose,” he said. “All right. I’ll go.”

Thorin nodded gratefully. “Thank you,” he said. “And Kíli—remember what I said. Try to relax. Don’t make yourself sick.”

Kíli glanced up at Thorin’s eyes then with a flash of realization—Thorin was _worried_ , deeply worried about him, worried that he would get sick again and be lost forever. Kíli understood now. He had never thought about just how afraid Thorin must have been; he had never thought about Thorin being afraid at all, really. But the almost imperceptible shine in his uncle’s eyes spoke volumes, and for a flash of a moment Kíli sensed the depth of love that Thorin held for him. It was comforting and embarrassing, and he looked down and swallowed.

“I’ll remember,” he said quietly.

Thorin cleared his throat and said, “Good.”

* * *

 

“Kíli!” said Bofur with his eyebrows raised. He looked the younger dwarf up and down. “Should you be out and about?”

“I’m fine, Bofur,” Kíli said good-naturedly, slapping a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “In fact, I’m doing so well that Thorin kicked me out for a while so I’d stop bothering him.” He offered Bofur a toothy grin.

The worry in Bofur’s face dissipated, and he returned the grin. “Well, come in then, lad!” he said. “You can have a pint and some food with us. Bombur! We’ve got a guest!”

“Just one pint?” Kíli said as Bofur enthusiastically ushered him inside. “That hardly sounds hospitable.”

“You help yourself to as much as you want, lad,” Bombur said, gesturing to a barrel in the corner. “We’ll make no judgments.”

“Well, I was rather hoping you’d join me,” said Kíli. He took a seat at the table; his mouth was already watering from the smells of Bombur’s cooking.

“Aye, I can do that,” said Bofur with a hearty laugh. Taking down three pint glasses, he got a drink for each of the three and set them at the table. Kíli immediately started on his, and Bofur joined him.

Before long, the three of them were joking and laughing, their heads and stomachs heavy and their spirits light. With great energy, Bofur and Bombur entertained their guest with songs and tales, and Kíli felt happier than he had in a quite a while; he forgot for a while about fey spirits and hateful sneers and all the events of the past weeks. Kíli drank slowly and laughed often, but his hosts were free with drink, and soon Bofur’s speech slurred and Bombur’s eyelids lowered.

They relocated to the living room with another pint each—that is to say, they stumbled in and crashed on various pieces of furniture. Bombur landed on the couch, which creaked under his girth but stayed standing; Bofur clumsily perched on the arm next to his brother and immediately fell off, prompting uproarious laughter from both Kíli and Bombur. Kíli, his sides and cheeks aching in his mirth, dropped into an overstuffed chair, spilling ale across his tunic.

“Maybe you should try somewhere less precarious, Bofur,” he said, still giggling as he wiped fruitlessly at the dark wet spot on his chest.

“I feel like singing!” Bofur slurred, rising unsteadily to his feet. “I learned this one from a top fellow down by the Shire. Didn’t do much but sing, it seemed.”

“Here we go again,” Bombur muttered, closing his eyes.

Ignoring his brother, Bofur began to sing.

 _Hey! Come merry dol! derry dol! My darling!  
Light goes the weather-wind and the feathered starling.  
Down along under Hill, shining in the sunlight,  
Waiting on the doorstep for the cold starlight_— _whoa!_

 The last word was shouted, not sung, as Bofur’s attempt at dance ended in disaster, sending him once again to the floor. Kíli nearly fell out of his chair in laughter, and Bofur chuckled, trying to lift himself back up to his feet.

“Say, Bofur, where’d you hear such nonsense?” Kíli said.

“I’ll tell you, if you let me finish my song,” Bofur replied. He swayed on his feet, but he remained standing as he continued, and Kíli clapped along gaily.

 _There my pretty lady is, River-woman's daughter,_  
Slender as the willow-wand, clearer than the water.  
Old Tom Bombadil water-lilies bringing  
Comes hopping home again. Can you hear him singing?  
Hey! Come merry dol! derry dol! and merry-o!

“Tom Bombadil!” Kíli exclaimed. “I know that name!”

“Aye,” Bofur said breathlessly. “I might’ve told you stories before.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Kíli said, “but Glóin has. I didn’t know you’d met him too!”

“Indeed,” Bofur said. “He’s a nice fellow, and his wife is as beautiful as a woman can be without a nice beard.”

“When did you meet him?” Kili asked. He always loved Bofur’s stories, and he was surprised that he had never heard this one before.

“They housed me and Bombur here for a few days once when we passed through from the East and had a fright on the Barrow-downs,” Bofur replied. “Nasty place. Long time ago now.”

“The Barrow-downs?” said Kíli. He had heard of them before. All he knew was that they were a place no one wanted to go and something about barrow-wights, ghost-creatures that liked to ensnare travelers to their graves. “What were you doing there? What happened?”

“We didn’t mean to go through them,” Bofur said, settling down on the thin slice of couch not occupied by Bombur. “But _someone_ ”—he slapped his brother’s leg; Bombur responded with a snore—“got us turned around, and we ended up in that cold, dreadful place. Takes all the warmth out of your bones.” He shuddered.

Kíli shuddered, too. He knew the feeling all too well.

“We didn’t see any barrow-wights,” Bombur continued, “but we heard one. It had a high, reedy voice that you just _knew_ wasn’t right… and then came old Tom over the barrows, singing.

_Old Tom Bombadil is a merry fellow;  
Bright blue his jacket is, and his boots are yellow._

“And then the old thing must have left, because we felt warmer—more wholesome—after that.”

“He scared away the barrow-wight?” Kíli said incredulously. Gears began to turn in his mind, but he said no more, keeping his thoughts to himself.

“More than scared it away,” Bofur said. He paused to whack his brother, whose snoring had grown quite loud. “It was like he had power _over_ it. I’ve never seen anything like it. Then he let us stay in his home right on the borders of the Old Forest, him and his lovely wife—my, she was a tall lady!—and they gave us food and drink to rival the best inns west of the Misty Mountains. I’ll never forget it.”

“Hm,” was all Kíli said in response, but he was barely paying attention anymore. His mind was racing as things clicked into place. This Tom Bombadil had power over the barrow-wights… if he had power over them, surely he would have power over something that seemed so similar as what had attacked him and Fíli in that cave. He blinked several times quickly in succession as the beginnings of an idea formed in his mind. He could take Fíli to Tom. Maybe _he_ could do what others could not—maybe _he_ could make Fíli’s mind whole once again. In the darkness of the past days, the idea was bright, a light at the end of a very long and very trying tunnel. He hid a hopeful smile behind his hand, faking a yawn. He couldn’t give a hint as to what he was thinking—not yet. He had to make a plan.

“Kíli, I need to tell you something,” said Bofur, suddenly serious. His head wobbled drunkenly.

“What is it, Bofur?” Kíli said. He looked up at his old friend and was startled to see sudden tears in his eyes. He shifted uncomfortably and waited for him to speak.

“I’m sorry, lad,” he said thickly.

Kíli furrowed his brow. “What on earth are you sorry for?” he said.

“I told you it would be a good idea to talk to that thing,” Bofur said. “I shouldn’t have said that—I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Kíli said. “You know me. I’m reckless. They all say so.” He forced a laugh, but Bofur wasn’t convinced.

“No, I should have known better. I should have gone with you—or told Thorin, or something… and another thing. I’m sorry—sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

Kíli’s heart dropped like a pit into his stomach. He knew what Bofur was talking about. Thorin had told him what had happened. He remembered the agonized look on Bofur’s face as he held Fíli back; he had thought it was grief because of what Fíli had done. He had never considered that Bofur would feel _guilty_ about anything.

“You couldn’t help that,” he said. “You saved my life.”

Bofur let out a halfhearted chuckle and didn’t meet Kíli’s eye. “Barely,” he said.

“But you did,” Kíli said fervently. “And I am grateful, Bofur. I really am. It’s been—it’s been hard, without Fíli.” He swallowed and looked down. “I was in a bad place. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I still don’t, in a way… but I have hope. And I’m alive, thanks to you.”

No reply came from Bofur. When Kíli looked up at his friend, a chortle escaped him. Bofur had fallen asleep, his head resting on his brother’s enormous stomach.

Then he frowned. He thought of how often he had fallen asleep resting on his own brother, and how impossible that would be now. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

 _Don’t lose hope,_ he told himself. Now he had a lead, a possible clue on how to proceed. Bofur’s story had awakened something in Kili that he hadn’t been sure he would ever feel again. For the first time since Fíli had tried to kill him, he saw a real, true ray of hope, and he clung to it desperately. Perhaps this Tom that Glóin and now Bofur spoke so highly of would have some answers. Perhaps he would be able to get Kíli his brother back. He had to try.

He tried to formulate a plan, but in the fuzziness of his mind brought on by good food and too much ale, nothing came to fruition; soon his mind wandered into strange shapes and colors and sounds, half-memories and momentary dreams, and Kíli drifted off to sleep.


	18. Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things to apologize for:  
> 1\. Sorry this took so long - I had school!  
> 2\. Sorry this is so short, but this was a good place to end it before the drama of the next chapter ;)
> 
> Carry on!

The world did not come into focus immediately for Kíli when he opened his eyes; in fact, it remained stubbornly blurry, and Kíli rubbed ferociously at his eyelids, grimacing against the headache that suddenly made itself known. When he opened his eyes again, the world cleared slowly, and he sighed and leaned back into the chair in which he had awoken. A snore captured his attention; he turned his bleary gaze to the couch across the room, where Bofur remained with his head on his brother’s large stomach. Both brothers snored terrifically.

Kíli chuckled and glanced to his right briefly and instinctively, searching for a shared smile that was not there. The corners of his mouth pulled down into a frown, and he righted his head and closed his eyes again.

_You have a solution._

The thought shot through Kíli’s head like a lightning bolt as he remembered the conversation from the night before. _Tom Bombadil._ _Forn_ , as Glóin had called him. Either way, he was the same person, whoever that was, and he was the closest thing Kíli had to an answer. He had to tell Thorin. With a sudden jolt, Kíli pulled himself off the chair; then he groaned and brought a hand to his aching head. Too much ale… far too much ale. At least he had still had enough wits about him to remember the conversation from the previous night. He glanced at Bofur, wondering if his old friend would remember it, too. He doubted it. Bofur had drunk at least twice as much as he had, and he had had much more than enough.

His thoughts then turned to food. He had no idea what time it was, but he assumed that it was late morning. With a wistful glance at the slumbering Bombur, Kíli resigned himself to cooking his own breakfast. It wouldn’t be as good as a meal from Bombur, but he would get it much sooner. Neither Bombur nor Bofur would mind if he helped himself.

Settling for eggs and ham, Kíli started his meal, humming a lilting tune to himself as he cooked. Over the crackling of cooking food, he heard the sound of heavy steps trudging in, and he looked up to see a bleary-eyed Bofur entering the kitchen, rubbing his neck.

“Good morning,” he said, cracking a few more eggs into the pan. Bofur looked up from the floor and did not even attempt to put on a cheery expression.

“What’s good about it?” he grumbled. He leaned his head from side to side and grimaced. “What time is it?”

“No idea,” said Kíli. “Late, I’d guess.”

“It’s half past eleven,” said Bombur, emerging from the other room with half-lidded eyes. He looked up past Kíli to the pan and blinked slowly. “Blimey, lad. You’ll need more food than that for the three of us.”

“You mean for _you_ ,” said Kíli teasingly. Bombur nodded in concession with a small grin and came forward to take over breakfast-making duties, and Kíli gladly surrendered his spot. A breakfast from Bombur was sure to be better than anything he could make himself. He ambled over to the kitchen table and sat down; Bofur was already at the table with his head in his hands. Kíli looked him over with a worried eye.

“You all right, there, Bofur?” he said.

Bofur let out a chuckle and glanced up at his young friend. “Too much ale,” he said. “If ye can believe it.”

“I can, actually,” Kíli said with a grin. “Do you remember anything from last night?”

Bofur searched the ceiling for memories, and then chuckled again. “Not really,” he said sheepishly. “Why, did I do something I should regret?”

“No, not at all,” Kíli said. For a moment, he considered telling Bofur what he had said, but then for some reason he could not rightly discern, he decided to keep it to himself.  Instead, he said, “That is, you did a pretty poor dance and song.”

“I believe it,” Bofur said; then he fell silent and dropped his head back into his hands. Kíli stared at him for a few moments, and then he looked away, his mind racing.

After a hearty breakfast and plenty of coffee, Kíli left his friends with a grateful farewell for their kindness and hospitality. _And a clue on how to help Fíli._ He kept that to himself.

On his way home, he spotted the jail, not too far away, and he felt a jolt in his gut. _Fíli._ He needed to check on Fíli. With a surreptitious glance around, he headed towards the stone building and peered in the window. Fíli was sitting with his back against the bars, his shoulders hunched and his head bowed. His usually-neat blond hair was in complete disarray, as if he had ceased to care about it at all. Óin sat in the chair near the cell, resting his elbows on his knees. It seemed that he was trying to talk to Fíli, as every once in a while, Fíli would shake his head or nod, though he never once turned to look at his old cousin. Kíli wondered what Óin was saying.

After several minutes with no new developments, Kíli stepped away from the window, his heart once again aching. He wished he could go inside and see his brother, but he knew that Óin would shoo him out immediately. It wasn’t worth it.

_You have hope,_ he reminded himself. _Go and tell Thorin what you have heard._

He made it home quickly and immediately headed for Thorin’s study. The door was closed, however, and Kíli stopped short as he heard two voices inside.

“If we can just _find_ him—”

“And how do you propose we do that?” said Thorin. “He could be anywhere— _anywhere_ in Middle-Earth.”

“I’ve heard he frequents the Shire,” said the other voice. _Balin._

“That’s not a guarantee,” Thorin said.

Curious, Kíli stepped closer and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” said Thorin.

Kíli opened the door and stepped inside, shutting it behind him. Balin, Dwalin, and Thorin looked up at the young Dwarf, all three looking him over, assessing how well he was doing. Kíli shifted in annoyance and suddenly wished that Ori were around so people would have someone even younger than himself to fuss over.

“I heard you talking,” he said, bowing his head respectfully to his elders. “Who are you talking about?”

Balin glanced at Thorin before speaking, and Thorin nodded his head.

“We thought that maybe we could acquire the help of a wizard,” said Balin. “We’ve all heard tell of the wandering wizard, Gandalf. Maybe he could help.”

“We have no way of knowing where he is,” said Thorin. “He could be anywhere from here to Gondor, or maybe even the far East. How would we know?”

“Couldn’t we search for him?” said Kíli. “Fíli is important. He’s a prince—of a lost kingdom, but a prince nonetheless. Surely the wizard would help us.”

“Aye, that’s what I said,” said Dwalin. But—”

“Absolutely not,” Thorin interrupted. “We are not dragging Fíli all over Middle-Earth in his state. It’s far too dangerous—for him and for us. We have to either find the wizard and bring him here, or find another option.”

Kíli’s heart sank like a stone. He had been so eager to tell his uncle his idea, but now he saw that it would be folly; Thorin would never allow a journey to the Old Forest to find Tom Bombadil, and Kíli was sure, from what he had already heard, that Tom would not come to them.

“What are we supposed to do, then?” Kíli said desperately. “What if that’s the only way?”

“We have to consider other options first, Kíli,” said Thorin evenly. “Fíli is dangerous. You should know that better than any of us.” He eyed his young nephew sadly; Kíli squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze. He didn’t want to think about that.

“We cannot possibly keep a close enough watch on him if we take him out of that cell—I don’t want to hurt him,” Thorin continued.  “I want to explore _every_ other option before I resort to having to use force against my nephew. Do you understand?”

“The longer he is stuck in that cell, the more he is going to hate us,” Kíli argued.

“Kíli, I am trying to _protect_ him!” Thorin said. “Him and you. You have seen what he is capable of. I refuse to endanger either of my nephews unless there is no other way.”

Kíli wanted to argue, but he could think of nothing to say. Instead, he left his uncle’s study, slamming the door behind him. As he left, he heard Thorin call his name, but he ignored it and stalked off to his own room, slamming his bedroom door for good measure and sitting down on his bed.

_That was unnecessary,_ he heard in his head in Fíli’s voice. _You didn’t have to react so harshly._

_He’s refusing the best option,_ Kíli argued. _I can’t even tell him my idea. He wouldn’t listen. He never listens!_

Again he heard Fíli’s voice. _Don’t judge him too harshly. He is doing the best he can._

_I wish you were here,_ Kíli thought. He looked up at the ceiling and swallowed, the corners of his eyes stinging. _I miss you._

There was no reply, as Kíli knew there wouldn’t be. Fíli wasn’t there. He was locked away, and he was no longer Kíli’s voice of reason—he was a voice of anger and hatred, poking at his little brother’s insecurities without a thought. Kíli had always known that he depended on Fíli, but until now, he had not realized how much.

“What am I supposed to do?” he asked the empty room. He sat and waited, as if the room would answer—or maybe Eru Himself would tell him what to do, but no answer came. He sighed and lay back on the mattress.

Then he had an idea.

 


	19. Betrayal

Kíli stood outside the door, his heart pounding ferociously. _Don’t give up now,_ he told himself. His fingers gripped the bag in his hand so tightly that his knuckles were turning white; but he would not give in. He couldn’t—not now. He had to do this.

_This is a terrible idea._

Slowly, Kíli set down his burdens next to the doorframe and slipped two small things in his pocket with trembling fingers. His heart felt like it was about to leap out of his chest, but a fierce determination kept him from turning and fleeing immediately. _This is my only choice,_ he told himself for what felt like the hundredth time. _If this doesn’t work, what else will?_

Kíli blinked several times rapidly and took a deep breath to steady his nerves. He reached a hand back into his pocket and fingered the items sitting within; then, with one more deep breath, he opened the door and peered inside.

“Who’s there?” called a voice from within.

_No. Not him. Anyone but him. Why did it have to be him?_

Immediately Kíli wanted to completely abandon his plan and run, but he straightened and stepped through the doorway, forcing his expression to be blank. He stepped into the light of the room at what he hoped was a normal pace.

“Kíli, why are you here?” said Thorin, standing to his feet. “I have _told_ you that you should not be here.”

“I checked in the window first,” Kíli said. “He’s asleep. I wanted to see him.”

Thorin sat back down with a sigh and glanced at his elder nephew’s sleeping frame. “You shouldn’t be here,” he repeated. 

“But Uncle—”

“But you can stay for now,” Thorin continued, his eyes flicking up to Kíli’s face. “But if he awakes, please listen to what I say and go home.”

Kíli swallowed. “Aye,” he agreed, his voice cracking. Thorin raised an eyebrow, and he cleared his throat and tried again. “Aye, I’ll leave when he wakes,” he said with a stronger voice.

“Good,” said Thorin, and he looked Kíli over with concern. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” said Kíli. He walked closer and stood behind his uncle, watching Fíli sleep. “I just—I just haven’t seen him since…” he stopped and sighed softly. “How is he?”

“He’s been quiet,” Thorin said. “I spoke to Óin earlier. He hasn’t said a word to anyone since the incident.”

“Nothing at all?”

“Nothing,” said Thorin. “Óin tried to get a word out of him, but all he would do was nod or shake his head.”

Kíli thought back to earlier in the day. So _that’s_ what he had been doing.

“Maybe I could—”

“No.” Thorin turned to look back at Kíli. “I know this is difficult for you, but you _have_ to try to understand, my boy. I have told you many times—I am trying to keep _you_ safe as well as your brother. I do not want him to hurt you.”

“He can’t hurt me, Uncle! He’s behind bars!” Kíli argued, throwing his hand out towards his brother. “What is he going to do to me from there?”

“Are you telling me that his words have had no effect on you?” said Thorin gently. “Because we both know that is not true.”

Kíli crossed his arms and stepped backward, leaning against the wall. Thorin had a point, but not one that he was willing to accept. Thorin turned back to look at Fíli; for several minutes, neither Dwarf said anything. The only sound was Fíli’s deep breathing as he slumbered.

“Uncle?” said Kíli finally.

Thorin turned his head to the side.

“Would you really not take Fíli anywhere if there was someone who could help?” he said.

Thorin sighed. “Kíli, I gave you my reasons,” he said. “It would be too dangerous. If there is nothing else to be done, perhaps we could try something—but at this point… I want to see what else we could do.”

“But what if I had an idea?” Kíli said. His heart leapt in his chest. Maybe Thorin _would_ agree with him. He had to try.

But his hopes were dashed. “No,” said Thorin immediately. “Not yet. We try other things first. _Then_ we try rasher options.”

“But what if—”

“That is my final say on the matter,” said Thorin. He held up a hand to silence his nephew and shook his head. “I will let you know how things go. He isn’t going anywhere, Kíli. He will be fine here.”

“But he _won’t_ ,” Kíli muttered. So he was on his own, then. He would have to carry through as planned… he felt his stomach contract as anxiety overtook him momentarily. _I don’t want to do this. I have to do this._ He was torn and yet resolute. He knew what he had to do—for Fíli.

He waited quietly. Minutes passed in silence; Thorin pulled out his pipe, packed it, and lit it, and Kíli watched him relax, his stomach twisted in knots. His fingers slipped into his pocket, and he impatiently fiddled with the items sitting there. He pulled his hand out of his pocket and reached into another, pulling out his own pipe. Maybe smoking would relax him. He lit his pipe and leaned against the wall, watching Fíli carefully.

It felt like an eternity had passed by the time Fíli finally stirred. Kíli pushed himself up off the wall immediately and put out his pipe, watching his brother with a pounding heart. _Now,_ he told himself, but he couldn’t move. _Now, you fool!_

“Kíli,” said Thorin, but he did not turn around. Finding the ability to move again, Kíli pulled out two things from his pocket, his fingers fumbling with the lid of the small bottle in his hand. Finally he got it open just as Thorin said his name again.

“You need to go,” Thorin said as Fíli lifted his head.

_I can’t do this. I have to do this._

“I’m—I’m sorry, Uncle,” Kíli said with a cracking voice.

“What are you ta—”

Before Thorin could finish his sentence, Kíli sprang forward and slapped a rag over his uncle’s nose and mouth. For a moment Thorin tried to turn his head, but Kíli held fast. A muffled cry that sounded vaguely like _Kíli_ came from beneath the rag, and tears sprang to Kíli’s eyes as he felt the cold sting of his own betrayal washing over him. Still he held the rag over his uncle’s nose and mouth, and then Thorin’s eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped. Kíli guided him carefully to the floor and stood over him, shaking; for a moment, his vision blurred, and he had to force himself to breathe.

“I’m sorry—I’m so sorry, Uncle,” he panted. “I’m so sorry.”

He had no time to lose. He shook his head, and his vision cleared; then he bent down and pulled the key ring from Thorin’s belt and ran to the cell door.

“Fíli, get up,” he said urgently. Fíli stared at him curiously, his brow furrowed. “If you want to leave, you have to come with me. Now.”

“Isn’t that your uncle?” said Fíli, nodding at Thorin’s unconscious frame.

“Yes, and I have just betrayed him. For _you_. So get up. We’re leaving.” Kíli unlocked the door with shaking hands and swung it open. Fíli stood up, staring hard at his brother.

“I have supplies outside,” Kíli said. “I’m taking you to someone who can help.”

“What makes you think I’ll go with you?” said Fíli.

“Please, don’t argue with me—just come,” said Kíli. He tugged on Fíli’s arm, but the blond yanked his arm out of his brother’s reach with wide eyes.

“Fíli, we don’t have much time,” Kíli said, glancing back at his unconscious uncle. When he looked back, Fíli had stepped far back into the cell, shaking his head.

“I don’t trust you,” he said. “I’m not going _anywhere_ with _you_.”

“I thought you _wanted_ to escape!” Kíli said with a wavering voice, trying to push down the hurt of that statement. _I don’t trust you._ “I’m giving you what you want. Now, let’s _go_.”

“Not with _you_!” Fíli cried, his eyes wild with fear.

Kíli stared at Fíli in utter shock. Before, he had seen Fíli as angry—yes, Thorin and Dís had said that he was frightened, but when it came to Kíli, all he had seen was irrational hatred, not this terror that shone in his eyes now. Suddenly Fíli seemed small, smaller than Kíli ever remembered seeing him before. He knew in his head that he was taller than Fíli—he had been since they were in their twenties—but Fíli had always seemed so big in his eyes. He had never thought much about it, but now it felt as if the world had gone askew. _Fíli is afraid of me._

He didn’t have time for this. With a sigh that almost turned to a sob, Kíli reached into his coat and pulled out a blade—one of Fíli’s. He pointed it towards his brother; the tip wavered, but Kíli’s glare was fierce.

“You’re coming with me because you don’t have another choice,” he said roughly. “You come with me, and if this doesn’t work, you can go wherever you please. You have my word. But for now, you’re stuck with me, whether you want it or not. Now _get a move on_. He’ll wake in just a minute or two.”

Fíli eyed the blade warily and seemed to shrink even further into the wall, and Kíli groaned inwardly. As if this would help him gain his brother’s trust… but it was a precaution that he knew he had to take. He had no intention of being attacked again. He flicked the blade to the side, gesturing for Fíli to follow, and his brother reluctantly stepped out of the jail cell and towards the door.

“Don’t try to run,” Kíli said. “I have impeccable aim. I promise you that.”

Fíli attempted to put on a calm façade, but now Kíli could see right through it. His heart throbbed, but he held his ground and moved forward with his plan. He had gotten this far—he couldn’t stop now. He left the keys in the cell door and stepped past his brother to lead the way.

Then he heard a groan behind him.

For a moment, the world went white as Kíli panicked. “No,” he whispered. His heart began to pound even harder than before, so hard that it hurt. He looked back at Thorin, who had just begun to stir. Kíli grabbed Fíli’s arm and pulled him along.

“Go!” he hissed. “We need to leave _now_.”

“Ki-li,” Thorin mumbled, and a glint of blue became visible beneath his eyelids. Kíli ran for the door, dragging Fíli behind him, desperately trying to ignore his uncle as his heart began to shatter.

_What have you done?_

“He won’t be able to move yet,” Kíli said in a loud whisper. His voice shook, and he swallowed. “Get outside. We only have a few minutes.”

Wordlessly, Fíli followed his brother’s lead, and they rushed outside as quickly as possible. Kíli picked up the pack he had left by the door and tossed it to him.

“Take this,” he said. “There are some clothes and some food and a few other things in there. I packed it for you.”

“Any weapons?” Fíli said, slipping the pack on his back.

“I’m not stupid, despite what you may think,” Kíli snapped. “Now, let’s go.”

“Why are you doing this?” said Fíli.

“I’ll explain later,” he said. “Let’s go! And don’t run away. I’ve got more than just a knife.” He nodded to the bow that he had just put on his back.

Fíli scowled, but when Kíli ran, he followed.

* * *

 

They had been gone for hours, and in all that time, neither brother had spoken.

The longer Kíli rode on, the more he regretted his decision. _What were you thinking?_ he scolded himself. _You should have told him. You should have just asked._

_He would have said no,_ he thought then. _He would have told me to wait. I can’t wait. I need him back._

Kíli looked back at Fíli, who was riding his pony with an uncomfortable expression, his eyes darting to and fro, as if he were expecting someone to come from the trees and attack him. His gaze turned to Kíli, and the brunet looked away suddenly.

“It’s later,” Fíli said. “Can you explain now?”

“We’re still too close,” Kíli said. “We need to make good time and get as far away as possible.”

“I’m not going further until I know what’s going on,” said Fíli. Kíli looked back again; Fíli had stopped his pony and sat there, his gaze icy. Kíli looked beyond him towards home, but it was far out of sight. They had time. He sighed.

“All right,” he said, riding back towards his brother. “I’ve heard tell of a person who may be able to help you. His name is Tom Bombadil, and we are going to find him and ask for his help.”

“I don’t need your help,” said Fíli obstinately. “I don’t need anyone’s help. I just need to get—I just need to… to be on my own.”

“That’s not true,” said Kíli softly. “You can pretend, Fíli, but I have the advantage here—I know you already. You may not remember me, but I have known you my entire life, and I can tell you… I know you’re frightened.”

Fíli’s eyes widened, and he looked away and set his jaw.

“You’re lying,” he said, but his voice was weak. “You don’t know what you are talking about.”

“It’s dark, isn’t it?” Kíli said with a stroke of inspiration.

Fíli looked back up at him. “What do you mean?” he said.

“In your mind,” said Kíli. “I know, because I’ve felt it. It’s dark in your mind. You keep reaching out, trying to figure out what happened to you, who you are, what’s going on, but there’s _nothing_. Every turn is a thick, dark wall that terrifies you more than you can say and you just want to shy away and find somewhere to turn, but there _is_ nowhere to turn. You’re caught—you’re stuck. And you don’t know what you can do to make it stop.”

Fíli’s eyes glittered as he stared at his brother in utter shock. “How did you—”

“It attacked me, Fíli,” he said. “The same thing that got you. I went looking for it, and it got me. Not as badly as it got you, but I felt that fear. I felt that darkness. I know you are frightened, Fíli, and you are confused, but I am only doing this because I think it will help you. Please believe me.”

Fíli stared at his brother with a curious expression, but he did not yield. His eyes strayed to the bow on Kíli’s back, and his lips pressed into a thin line.

“I don’t have to believe you,” he said then. “But if you give me your word—when this is over, you’ll let me be—then I won’t run.”

Kíli’s heart ached once again, but he nodded. “Good,” he said. “Now, let’s keep moving. I want to get the town far behind us by nightfall. If we’re quick, we can make it halfway to the Lune before we make camp.”

Fíli nodded, and once again, the two started off, but the ache did not leave Kíli’s chest.

* * *

 

“So tomorrow, we’ll camp on the banks of the Lune, if we’ve gone far enough,” Kíli said, pointing at the map of the western lands of Middle-Earth. Fíli looked on, his body rigid, but his eyes curious. “Then in the light of the morning we can cross. And no funny business from you.” He pointed a finger at Fíli, scowling as the blond unsuccessfully attempted to hold back a grin. “It’s _not_ funny.”

“Of course not,” said Fíli lightly. Kíli’s stomach burned with frustration, and he blinked quickly. Fíli would _never_ make light of trying to kill him. Who was this stranger beside him?

“A-anyway,” he said. “After that, we’ll go just south of the Hills of Evendim. I want to avoid the Shire completely—Hobbits are talkative folk, and I want to keep quiet. If anyone is on our trail, they’ll certainly ask there, and we don’t want them knowing where we’ve gone. Then we’ll cross the Brandywine and head south.” He pointed to a dark spot on the border of Buckland. “This is where we’re going.”

“The Old Forest,” Fíli read from the map. “What’s in the Old Forest?”

“An old fellow—not a Dwarf, nor a Man, and certainly not an Elf,” said Kíli. “I’ve heard that he may be able to help with what has happened to you.”

“But what _is_ he?” said Fíli, turning sharp eyes onto his brother.

“I-I don’t rightly know,” Kíli admitted. “I just know he might be able to help, and that he won’t harm us.”

Fíli looked at him incredulously. “You are putting your trust in a… a _creature_ , someone you have never met and you don’t know anything about?”

Kíli blinked. For a moment, Fíli had sounded so much like his old self that Kíli almost forgot circumstances of their trek. He was always the voice of reason when the younger had rash and wild ideas.

“It’s my only chance,” he muttered, folding up the map and putting it back in his pack. “I have to do what I can.”

Fíli scoffed, and his voice once again took a cruel edge. “You really have no idea what you’re doing, do you?” he said. “You _never_ have any idea what you’re doing.”

“Shut up!” Kíli snapped. “I know what I’m doing.”

Fíli merely chuckled and shook his head, a dark gleam playing in his eyes. He pulled his pack over and searched through it; his hands stopped moving, and he glanced over at Kíli again.

“There’s a pipe in here,” he said, pulling it out reverently.

“It’s _your_ pipe,” said Kíli, feeling self-conscious. “I thought you’d like to have it.”

Fíli ran his fingers over the carvings in the wood, admiring the handiwork. He held it closer to the fire to get a better look.

“It’s beautiful,” he said. He reached into the bag again and pulled out a pouch of pipe-weed, running his thumb over the soft leather. “Thank you.”

“Y-you’re welcome,” Kíli mumbled. He tried to keep himself from gaining hope, but a warmth spread in his chest, and he felt his shoulders drop just a little. Fíli stared at the pouch for a long moment; then, he seemed to remember his previous attitude, and his eyes flicked up to Kíli’s face, unnaturally dark as they had been lately. He stood and carried his pack to the other side of the fire, avoiding his brother’s gaze.

Kíli watched Fíli unroll his bedding and lay down; as always, Fíli lay on his stomach. His messy hair went every which direction, covering his face, and Kíli looked down at the fire. Some kind of animal made a sound far off; then the only sound was the crackling of the fire. For a long time, Kíli merely sat, lost in thought, wishing he could talk to Fíli about all of the things on his mind, but he kept quiet, knowing that he would receive only mockery in return.

_Please let this work,_ he prayed. _I need him back. You know I need him back._

Fíli sighed and turned his head, and Kíli froze. Still awake, then—he never moved in his sleep. Kíli wondered what he was thinking about, but thought better than to ask him about it. Instead, he wrapped his arms around himself and looked around, keeping an eye out for anything unwholesome that may be near. This was not a common road; usually, when heading east, the Dwarves took the road through the Shire, though the Hobbits were generally unhappy about their presence. It was a quick road and a safe road, and not one that Kíli was willing to take. That well-known path lay south of them, and Kíli knew that had he taken it, his kin could find him easily. No—they had to stay far from anywhere they might be expected to go.

Kíli yawned and shook his head. _No,_ he told himself. _Stay awake._ He didn’t trust Fíli not to run away or kill him in his sleep… he would find rest somehow along this journey. _Maybe once he falls asleep._ In the meantime, though, he would keep watch. Maybe if Fíli could prove himself to be trustworthy—very unlikely, but Kíli clung to hope—he could keep watch, too. Or maybe, if they made good time, Kíli could rest when they arrived at Tom Bombadil’s house, wherever that happened to be.

His thoughts turned to home, and he thought of his uncle. His eyes squeezed shut involuntarily, and he cringed. _What have I done?_ he thought, he pain of his betrayal radiating through his being. He could not even bear to think what Thorin would think of him—and his mother. He covered his mouth with his hand as a small, distressed sound made its way out. She would be hurt, so hurt, and so worried about them both. What would they do when Fíli and Kíli had been gone for too long? Would they keep looking? Would they give up? Would they assume that they were dead?

The pain of his thoughts was too much, and Kíli shook his head violently, forcing them away. No—he _had_ to do this. No one was getting anything done, and Fíli was hanging in the balance. Fíli was more important than his reputation or even the disapproval of his family, and when he came back, they would see that he was just fine—he was a capable warrior and certainly responsible enough to be gone for a few weeks, and they would not worry about him again.

He just hoped that, given what he had done, this would all prove to be worth it in the end.


	20. Cooperation

It was the sound of shuffling that roused Kíli from his sleep.

Kíli opened his eyes ever so slightly, his mind foggy with exhaustion, and peered across the smoldering fire. Fíli was creeping away, his pack thrown over his shoulder, and Kíli’s stomach clenched. He had fallen asleep—he had let his guard down. _No. No, he cannot leave me. Not now. I’ve come too far._

“Stop!” he cried out, sitting up with a jolt. Fíli immediately broke into a run, and Kíli moaned, his mind racing. He looked to his left and his right wildly and spotted his bow; as quickly as he could manage, he was on his feet with an arrow aimed just to the side of his brother.

“Fíli, if you don’t stop, I swear I will shoot!” he called with a wavering voice.

Fíli stopped immediately and turned around, his eyes aflame. Kíli kept his bow aimed slightly to the side and took a deep breath.

“Come back,” he said.

“What are you going to do?” Fíli sneered. “Shoot me?”

Kíli let an arrow fly, and it stuck into the ground just to Fíli’s right. Fíli jumped to the side, his eyes wide; he looked up at Kíli, then back down to the arrow.

“Don’t question me,” Kíli said, forcing his voice to be rough. “You said you would come with me. Please, Fíli—don’t do this.”

Fíli’s fine features distorted into an ugly scowl, and he began to walk back towards his brother. Kíli lowered his bow with trembling hands and took a step backward; Fíli was gaining speed, and he was reaching into his coat. A cold chill of horror shot down from Kíli’s head to his toes, and he looked around frantically for the blade of Fíli’s that he had brought. _Fool,_ he told himself. _You left it in plain sight!_

“Fíli, no!” he said, reaching for his own blade, thankfully still on his person. “Don’t—I don’t want to hurt you—”

“I just want to be _left alone_! Why can’t you _leave me alone_?” Fíli said, his voice cold and venomous. “You have to _meddle_ —you have to be _insufferable_ —”

“Stop!” Kíli shouted. His brother was almost upon him. “Fíli, please!”

But Fíli did not stop. He charged at Kíli full speed, knife brandished, and Kíli dove to the side deftly, missing the blade by far too close a margin. Fíli turned again, and Kíli ducked as Fíli swung at him. Fíli stumbled, and Kíli dove forward, reaching for the blade, but it was just out of his reach. He grabbed Fíli’s arm and drove an elbow into his chest, buying himself a moment of time as Fíli gasped. Fíli swung with his other arm and hit Kíli square in the left side, and he dropped with a silent shout as pain radiated through his ribs and lung. Breathless, he looked up at his brother, who smirked dangerously.

Kíli shot out with his feet and caught Fíli’s ankle, maneuvering just so to bring Fíli to the ground next to him. He swallowed and coughed, then forced himself to roll over onto his brother and grab his arms.

“S-stop,” he wheezed through gritted teeth, but Fíli merely snarled. The brothers wrestled violently for a few moments, and somehow, Kíli came out the victor; in a flash, he had Fíli’s knife in his own hand, and he held it against his brother’s throat.

Fíli stiffened and looked up at Kíli with cold eyes, his teeth gritted and his breath coming in quick gasps. Kíli kept the knife at his brother’s throat and fought painfully to regain his breath.

“Do it,” Fíli hissed.

Kíli blinked and furrowed his brow. “What?” he croaked.

“You could never,” Fíli spat. “You could never actually hurt anyone, could you? Weak and pathetic, that’s what you are. Can you make that knife break the skin?”

“Shut up,” Kíli said, feeling a lump develop in his throat that only further impaired his ability to breathe. “Shut up. Just _shut up_.”

“Could you do it?” Fíli said.

It felt like an eternity, those few moments in which Kíli knelt over his brother, a knife pressed to his throat. The knife felt heavy, heavier than it should have been, in his hand, and he struggled to hold it in place, so strong was his desire to let go. Fíli stared up at him, his face set in a snarl, but his eyes shining with terror.

_He thinks I would do it. He thinks I would kill him._

But Fíli was right. He couldn’t hurt his brother. He wouldn’t.

With a sob, he rolled off and tucked Fíli’s knife away. He drew his knees up to his chest and dropped his forehead between them, covering his head with his arms; his face grew warm and the lump grew until he couldn’t take it any longer. He let go of his inhibitions and his body shuddered with sobs, each one causing pain to stab into his side. _Let him kill me, then,_ he thought. _If this is how he feels, then so be it._

But death did not come. Instead, there was silence as Kíli let tears fall; he wondered if his brother was still there, but he could not bring himself to look. He felt as if his heart had shattered into a million pieces, and each piece sank slowly to the ground, leaving him empty and in agony—a horrible, familiar feeling, one that he thought he had done away with that day on the floor of his home in his mother’s arms.

“You didn’t kill me,” said Fíli.

Kíli hiccupped and looked up and to his left. To his shock, Fíli had not moved, save to sit up; he was staring at Kíli with the most curious expression, and Kíli stared back.

“Why didn’t you kill me?” Fíli said.

“Because you’re my _brother_ , you idiot!” Kíli cried. “How many times do I have to tell you—I’m _not lying_! You _are_ who I say you are!”

“I just—I can’t…” Fíli began, but he fell silent. Kíli wiped away the tears running down his face and sniffed, and Fíli stared out into nothing, his brow furrowed and his gaze fixed on the air in front of him. Then his eyes strayed to where Kíli had stashed his knife, but Kíli laid a hand over it.

“Don’t,” he said. “Just—don’t.”

Fíli looked away from Kíli’s hand and back to his face and studied him carefully. He seemed to be deep in thought; then, suddenly, he stood to his feet. Kíli pushed himself up as well, but his side pinched, and he gasped and staggered forward. From the corner of his eye, he saw Fíli jerk forward, and then his hands clenched at his sides and he stepped backward. Kíli pretended not to see, but his heart filled with both warmth and dread; even the smallest hint that Fíli cared brought him joy—but not like _this_. Fíli could never know what kind of damage he had done so many years ago. Kíli wouldn’t allow it.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Just don’t do that again.”

Fíli cleared his throat and looked away; his right hand found his left arm, and he stared at the ground uncomfortably.

“I don’t… I can’t believe you,” he said. “I can’t.” He turned away and walked over to the coals of last night’s fire, his head hung low, and sat down and dropped his face into his hands. Kíli looked after him plaintively.

“Why not?” he said softly.

* * *

 

Fíli followed Kíli throughout the day, never once opening his mouth to speak. To Kíli, the silence was painful; he longed for nothing more than to be able to at least speak to Fíli without getting venomous, angry comebacks in return, but he knew that it was all he would get, if he were lucky enough to get a response at all. So he remained silent as well, hoping for a single word—a kind word—from his brother, but nothing came forth.

Kíli refused to give up hope.

Ever since the incident that morning, the gears had been turning in Kíli’s head. There had to be _some_ way to convince Fíli that he was telling the truth—that he meant no harm, and that he actually _was_ his brother. He had spent the better part of the day thinking on it.

They stopped for a late lunch in the shade of a small grove of pine trees. Kíli brought out dried meat and fresh bread, and the two ate quietly; several times, Kíli looked up to find Fíli looking at him, and he quickly averted his eyes. Those eyes didn’t seem to belong to his brother. For over sixty years, those eyes had looked on him with care and love and understanding, blue like the sky above them on a warm summer day like today. But somehow, though Kíli could not figure out how, they were different. He had noticed it, of course, when Fíli first awoke, but he had not paid much attention at that point, and in the dark of the jail, he could not clearly see his brother’s face; but now, in the light of the noonday sun, Kíli could clearly see that something was different. Instead of the warmth he had previously seen in his brother’s eyes, they seemed somehow more like ice than the summer sky, though their hue had not changed as far as he could tell. From the depths of Fíli’s gaze there seemed to be a flow of darkness and coldness—the same that Kíli had felt when he had encountered the creature in the cave, that had permeated his soul and left him terrified and alone. The ice had melted in his own heart, but it held Fíli captive, and Kíli could see it in those few moments when he dared to look his brother in the eye.

Fíli was not gone. He was _trapped_.

At this revelation, Kíli finally began to understand. He knew from his own experience what it felt like—cold, lonely, everything hidden behind a wall that he could not take down on his own. It was worse for Fíli, he knew. But _that_ was where his brother was—behind that wall. Everything he had known, everyone he had loved, his childhood and his memories and his cares and worries lay hidden from his sight, and he could not access it. Instead, all he knew was the fear caused by that creature in the cave. Kíli cringed as he recalled the first thing Fíli had seen when he awoke: Kíli himself, holding him down as his mind was filled with inexplicable terror. No wonder his brother was afraid of him—he was merely a continuation of the nightmare in which he had been trapped.

Wordlessly, Kíli cleaned up and packed away everything, and Fíli followed suit. He had been surprisingly cooperative since Kíli had threatened him with the bow and the knife. While Kíli appreciated the cooperation, he hated how it had come about. He would rather have Fíli’s trust than his fear. Still, it was better than nothing.

“How much further?” Fíli said.

Kíli nearly jumped out of his skin, he was so startled, and his head whipped back to look at his brother. Fíli mounted his pony and looked down at Kíli, his visage completely expressionless.

“If we don’t make it to the Lune by nightfall, I’ll be surprised,” Kíli said. “We’ve made good time.”

“And are your kin on our trail?” said Fíli.

“ _Our_ kin,” Kíli corrected. He looked back from where they had come. “I doubt it,” he said. “Do you remember coming this way?”

“Why would I?” said Fíli.

Kíli sighed. “Typically, when we go this way, we take an established road further south that crosses the Lune just before it widens and splits into the Gulf,” he said. “It leads right into the Great East Road, which goes through the Shire. We’re not taking the Road. There is another bridge a little north of here that you and I took once. It was part of a trade route between the Dwarves of Ered Luin and the Men of Annúminas long ago, before the city was abandoned, I think. The bridge is still stable, though. Made by Dwarves.”

“And your kin will not suspect that road?” said Fíli.

“ _Our_ kin, Fíli. _Our_ kin,” Kíli said again. “And no—I don’t think so. They don’t even know where we’re going. I told no one.”

Fíli looked skeptical, but he said no more, and Kíli mounted his pony. They traveled in silence for the next several hours; eventually, the smell of river vegetation reached their nostrils, and Kíli looked up at the sky. The east was already deepening to a dark blue, and behind them, the westering sun was halfway behind the mountains, still looming high in the distance. They were blue as their name suggested against the fiery reds and oranges of sunset, and Kíli stopped, admiring the view.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he said to Fíli, enchanted.

“Aye,” Fíli agreed. A change had come over his deportment; instead of the rigid position he had kept himself in, he seemed to relax, staring out at the mountains. Kíli turned his gaze from the spectacle to Fíli and watched him carefully.

“It’s almost like…” Fíli said, trailing off. He caught Kíli’s eye then and immediately resumed his rigidity. He turned his pony away from the mountain and looked towards the darkness.

“Like what?” said Kíli hopefully.

Fíli spoke softly. “Never mind,” he said.

The sun finally set behind the Blue Mountains, and Kíli and Fíli stopped for the night in the cover of a small wood. They were surely near the river now, but Kíli was not fond of the idea of being too close in the cover of night with Fíli. Not in the state he was in.  He still shuddered at the idea of being near the river at all, but he would deal with that fear tomorrow. For tonight, he had a different goal in mind.

“Can you start the fire?” Kíli said to Fíli as they tied up the ponies for the night.

Fíli blinked and looked at him curiously. “Aye,” he said. “Sure. Of course.”

Kíli watched his brother start the fire with relative ease before he spoke again. He pulled out food and his pipe from his own bag, and once the fire was burning bright, Fíli did the same; for a while, they ate in silence, and then Kíli lit his pipe and sat back, puffing quietly. Fíli lit his own and sat across the fire, leaning against a tree. He stared straight ahead and ignored Kíli’s gaze.

“Do you remember who taught you to make a fire?” Kíli said.

Fíli dropped the pipe from his lips and sighed as his head fell back against the tree trunk. “No,” he said.

“But someone taught you,” said Kíli. “Our uncle. Thorin. He taught both of us how to make a fire.”

“Stop trying to make conversation,” Fíli snapped. He glared at Kíli angrily, but Kíli continued, unperturbed.

“You burned your thumb the first time you lit a fire,” he said. “I remember because you tried so hard not to cry, but you’d burned it pretty badly, actually. I was afraid to try on my own after that.”

“I don’t know why you keep trying to do this,” Fíli said. “I don’t believe you. I _won’t_ believe you.”

“What about that pipe in your hand?” Kíli said. “Do you remember who gave it to you?”

“ _You_ did, just yesterday,” Fíli said. Even in the low light, Kíli could see him roll his eyes.

“No, I gave it to you years ago,” said Kíli. “Take a look at it. _Really_ look at it.”

Fíli sighed, but he pulled it up close to his face and inspected it carefully. “What about it?” he said.

“You don’t recognize it?” Kíli said. His voice wavered, and he cleared his throat. _Don’t,_ he told himself.

“What am I supposed to recognize?” Fíli said, rolling his head to look at Kíli again.

“I-I carved that,” Kíli said meekly. “I made it for you.”

Fíli looked from Kíli to the pipe and frowned. As he studied the pipe again, his lip curled in disgust; then he looked back up at his brother with those cold eyes and tossed it into the fire.

“Fíli, no!” Kíli exclaimed, leaping forward to rescue the pipe from the flames. He took a stick and knocked it out from among the firewood, picked it up, and returned to his own seat. He gently cleaned the ash off it and looked it over; one part on the right side was charred, but not too badly. He could fix it.

Subdued, Kíli remained quiet and pulled out a small whittling knife and set to work fixing the intricate design on Fíli’s pipe.

 _This pipe is one of your most treasured possessions,_ Kíli thought, daring a glance at Fíli. He would keep it for him, then; if Fíli could not appreciate it now, he certainly would later, and Kíli knew that he would be distraught if he realized that he had tossed it in the fire when he came back to his senses.

And he would. Fíli had stayed with him this far, and Kíli held hope that he would remain with him all the way to the Old Forest. He thought back to Thorin’s words: _We are not dragging Fíli all over Middle-Earth in his state. It’s far too dangerous—for him and for us._ Yet here Kíli was, and save for one quickly-resolved mishap, Fíli had been cooperative. Maybe—just maybe—it was because somewhere deep down inside, Fíli knew that Kíli was right. He knew that Kíli was his brother. He had seen that jerk forward when he had stumbled. It had to mean something—Kíli was sure of it.

 _Maybe the creature’s magic is wearing off,_ he thought. He glanced across the fire at Fíli; the blond was hunched over, his hands on his drawn-up knees and his chin resting on his arms. He stared out into the darkness, and Kíli saw in his eyes a hint of his brother—the brother he knew. Instead of the cold, angry glare usually reserved for Kíli, Fíli looked sad, wistful, like there was something that he missed.

There _was_ something that he missed.

“You all right?” Kíli said gently.

Fíli jumped and glanced briefly at Kíli, but he said nothing. With a huff, he turned so that his back faced his brother and leaned his head against the tree. A moment later, he wrapped his arms around himself. Kíli longed to step around the fire and sit next to him, to talk to him, to be the brother he always had been—but Fíli would not accept him. Fíli did not remember him. He thought of him as an enemy, a problem, someone to be feared and hated. But Kíli knew that Fíli was still in there somewhere.

He stared sadly after the blond for a long moment; then he returned his attention to the charred surface of his brother’s pipe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try to finish this fic by the time school starts on January 13, but I highly doubt that will happen. I'll try, anyway! I'll be working hard!


	21. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOOM. Look at this. I spent all day working on this, just for you. Yeah, you there. *points* With the face.
> 
> Special thanks to my darling Nalbal, who shared ideas with me and was my beta for this chapter. I'm so grateful to have such cool friends.

The morning came again without further incident, and at first light, Kíli and Fíli set off for the nearby river. Within half an hour they were close enough to hear the water.

Then the fear started.

Kíli had no idea how Fíli would act once they were near the water. He thought back to his near-drowning, when Fíli had saved him; then he thought of his second time in the creek, this time held down by the very hands that had previously striven to save him. A shudder ran up his spine as he considered what might happen this time. Every moment brought more and more anxiety until Kíli could barely stand it. He began glancing nervously behind him, half expecting Fíli to pull a weapon from somewhere, though Kíli knew he had nothing. His hands were shaking—though whether that was his nerves or the fact that he was going on no sleep at all, he was not sure.

"What are you _looking_ at?" Fíli said finally after Kíli glanced back once again.

"N-nothing," Kíli said, whipping back around.

Soon the Lune came into view. For the amount of noise it made from a distance, it seemed surprisingly calm here, and Kíli was grateful. The surging creek back home seemed much more dangerous at the moment.

"Where is the bridge?" Fíli called from behind him.

Kíli looked up- and downstream and saw nothing; further north, he spotted a grey lump in the distance. He waved forward, and Fíli followed. Kíli kept himself at a distance from his brother, ever fearful that Fíli would suddenly come after him and try to toss him in.

_I shouldn't feel like this,_ Kíli thought mournfully. He wished for the thousandth time that Fíli was well, that he was not in this state where Kíli had to worry for his life when in his brother's presence. He was used to feeling safe and secure around Fíli, not anxious, and he only hoped that Tom Bombadil could help as he hoped.

Eventually they reached the bridge. Upon reaching it, Kíli spurred his pony on and crossed the bridge quickly, and Fíli followed without incident. When they had both reached the other side, Kíli kept his pony at a decent speed, eager to get the Lune out of sight. The further he was from the water, the better he would feel.

Maybe when this was over, Fíli would teach him to swim. Kíli swallowed.

As had become typical between them on this journey, they traveled silently for several hours; when the sun was directly overhead, they stopped for lunch. They ate in silence and continued on quickly; with the river far behind, Kíli was eager to get past the hills and reach the Brandywine. Once they crossed the second river, they would only have a day's journey ahead of them—maybe two.

Kíli thought of his mother and uncle back home and wondered if they were searching. _Of course they are searching,_ he thought. _They wouldn't give up on us._ He thought of Thorin, and his stomach tightened painfully. He knew his uncle well enough to understand that what he had done would be seen as nothing less than complete betrayal, and he feared what the consequences would be when he came home. But maybe, just maybe, with Fíli at his side completely restored, they would forget his rash actions and instead thank him for taking the initiative that no one else was willing to take.

They stopped late in the evening for supper, after the sun had set. Both Dwarves were famished. Kíli had spotted a rabbit in the afternoon and had quickly shot it; he expertly skinned and cooked it over the fire when they had finally stopped. The taste of hot meat as opposed to dry bread and jerky put him in higher spirits—in fact, he felt so cheered by his good catch that he attempted to make conversation.

"I don't think I've ever had a better rabbit," Kíli said cheerfully.

"Aye, it's good," Fíli responded quietly.

Kíli looked up at his brother in surprise. He had not truly expected him to respond—and if he had, he expected some kind of snide remark. Fíli did not look at him, however; he kept his gaze firmly planted on the food in front of him.

"Would—uh, would you like some more?" Kíli offered.

"Thank you," Fíli said, taking the meat Kíli held out for him. Kíli blinked and stared; this was wholly unexpected. Fíli almost seemed to be as he had been before, albeit if he was in a very bad mood.

He decided to take advantage of his brother's seemingly good temper. "I think we're making good time," he said.

"I wouldn't know," Fíli said. "As long as it's over soon."

Kíli frowned. "You still don't believe me, do you?" he said.

Fíli paused, chewing, and looked beyond Kíli out into the distance. After a few moments, he shook his head and looked back down at his food.

"No," he said. "I can't."

Kíli's shoulders dropped, and the corners of his mouth pulled even further down. He let some time pass before he decided to speak again.

"What is it," he said, "that makes you so unwilling to believe me, Fíli?"

Fíli sighed and finally met Kíli's eye coldly. "Why do you keep trying to have this conversation?" he said. "Isn't it enough for you that I haven't run off or killed you yet?"

Kíli swallowed. _Yet._

"But why?" he pressed. "What is keeping you here? I am trying to understand."

"Why can't that just be enough?" Fíli snapped. "Why do I have to explain myself to you? Can't you just shut _up_ and let me be?"

Maybe Kíli had been wrong. Fíli wasn't in a good mood at all.

"Never mind," he mumbled, and he fell silent.

After they had finished eating, both Dwarves cleaned up and laid out their bedrolls under the cover of the trees. Kíli sat up straight, however, instead of lying down.

"Are you going to sleep?" said Fíli.

"Someone has to keep watch," Kíli said. He blinked slowly; he had handled his lack of sleep well through the day, but now that he wasn't moving and the sky had darkened, it was becoming harder and harder to keep his eyes open.

"I can keep watch," Fíli said.

"No," Kíli said immediately.

"I won't run off."

"I don't believe you."

"Fine," Fíli said roughly. He lay down with a huff, and Kíli sighed, staring out into the night.

They had camped on top of one of the smaller hills of the area in order to keep watch from all sides. To the north, Kíli only saw more hills; he knew that beyond them and beyond the trees lay the ruins of Annúminas and Lake Nenuial. He had never been there, but Balin had taught him about the kingdoms of Men that used to be in these parts. He hadn't paid much attention, of course, but he could remember a little. It had once been a great city, the glory of the North-Kingdom of Arnor. Now it had lain in ruins for two thousand years, though Kíli had heard that sometimes the Rangers took refuge there.

That was not their path, however. He looked south, towards the Shire, and admired the faraway twinkling of Hobbit homes in the Northfarthing. He didn't know much about Hobbits, but he did know from his various ventures through on the Road that they seemed to stay up quite late into the night. They also had excellent ale in their inns, and Kíli reminisced wistfully, wishing he could stop there and have a drink or two. Maybe on the way back—they had no need for secrecy then.

"Want to stop in the Shire on the way back?" Kíli said.

"You speak as if I'll be with you," Fíli muttered sleepily.

"You will," Kíli said confidently. "They have inns in the Shire. Good food, great beer. Soft beds. The Hobbits are a bit suspicious, especially once you get past Buckland, but they'll cater to you if you mind your own business."

"You're making conversation again," Fíli sighed.

"They always look a little frightened at first," Kíli continued, more to himself than Fíli now. "But they're kind folk. The more adventurous ones will even talk to you, listen to your stories. Well, maybe only the ones in Bree. A few in Buckland, too. Never when Dwalin's with us, though. He makes every innkeeper go white as a sheet."

A great guffaw came from Fíli then, and Kíli whirled about and looked at his brother with wide eyes. Fíli looked about as shocked as he did; he snapped his mouth shut and attempted to pull a blank expression.

"Did you just laugh?" Kíli said.

"Shut up," Fíli mumbled.

"You just laughed," said Kíli incredulously.

Fíli did not respond. Instead, he rolled over so that Kíli could not see his face and drew his blanket tighter around his shoulders. He heaved a great sigh, and then he was still.

Kíli, however, could not stop smiling.

* * *

Kíli started awake suddenly to a feeling of falling and immediately cursed himself for dozing off. He looked around in the dark—nothing. He looked behind him—Fíli was sound asleep. He blinked slowly and stretched; his eyes did not want to stay open. He was far too tired. With a sigh, he pushed himself off the ground and walked down the hill a ways, stumbling over bushes and tree roots but never fully losing his footing.

"How am I going to do this?" he muttered to himself, shaking his head. "I have… to sleep sometime."

He had clearly not thought this through enough. The Old Forest was probably another two days away by pony—how was he going to stay awake? He did not trust Fíli with his life. Not anymore.

_Maybe I should just sleep without leaving a watch,_ he thought. He dismissed that thought quickly, however. Thorin and Dwalin would kill him for even considering such a thing—they had drilled into him that someone should _always_ be on watch. Someone needed to make sure that no one was killed or taken away in the night.

Kíli sighed again and leaned against a nearby tree. As soon as his weight was supported, his eyes closed on their own; suddenly, he stumbled, and once again he jerked awake. He groaned.

A wolf's howl in the distance startled Kíli awake, and he looked around nervously. Was it a wolf? As far as he knew, there was no lake nearer than Lake Nenuial, so it could not be a loon. He made the short trek back to his and Fíli's camp with a pounding heart, but Fíli was still safe and sound, and the ponies did not even seem nervous. _We'll be fine._

The sudden adrenaline gave him the will to keep awake, at least for a while. Throughout the rest of the night, he kept watch; eventually, the extreme tiredness passed again, leaving in its wake a cold fatigue that left him trembling. His eyes felt dry, and no matter how close he kept his toes to the fire, they just could not seem to warm up. As the day came closer, a thick fog rolled in at the foot of the hill, and Kíli watched it wearily. At first light, Kíli woke Fíli unceremoniously with a violent shake.

"Get up," he said, his voice scratchy with exhaustion. "We're moving out."

"It's barely light," Fíli complained.

"I want to get a move on today," Kíli said. "The further we can travel today, the closer we'll be to the Old Forest. Get up."

"All right, fine," Fíli grumbled.

As soon as they had eaten some leftover rabbit and packed up, they headed out again. The ponies were frisky this morning, and Kíli struggled to control his pony, Basil. Thankfully, it was a distraction from how tired he felt, and he put all his focus into keeping her on track. Fíli's pony was much more well-behaved, a fact that left Kíli rather irritated.

Eventually as the day wore on, Basil settled, and Kíli did not have much to do but keep moving east. The effort of staying awake was becoming what seemed to be the biggest challenge Kíli had ever faced; several times, he almost nodded off, only awakening to the dropping of his head. Still he carried on, determined to keep going at least until lunch.

The trees and grass ahead of him seemed fuzzy, even though the morning fog had been burned away. Faintly, Kíli could hear the trickle of water, and he furrowed his brow. What body of water was that?

Eventually the unseen water came into view—another river. A cold chill went through Kíli at the thought of crossing what was likely a bridgeless waterway, but he swallowed down his fear and looked back at Fíli.

"We're going to have to cross this river," he called back to Fíli.

"How?" Fíli called back.

Kíli narrowed his eyes, attempting to see it more clearly, but it only became fuzzier in his view. He blinked hard and rubbed his eyes, and then tried again. To his left, higher up in the hills, the woods seemed welcoming. Nice and dark…

"Let's see if there's a crossing further north," he said. "Maybe there's a fallen tree we can push across the water."

He pushed his pony on, eager to reach the shade of the trees. The day was hot, now that the mist had gone, and the sun was shining directly in his eyes, further fouling his already foul mood. Once he turned away from the sunlight, his shoulders relaxed, and he took a moment to close his eyes.

The next thing he knew was the horrifying sensation of falling, and then he hit the ground.

He landed on his side—his left side—and immediately the world went white as pain swept through his body. He opened his mouth to shout, but the impact with the ground had knocked all the wind out of his lungs, and he could only wheeze painfully. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, grabbing onto his side with both hands and curling into a ball; suddenly, another pair of hands latched onto him and began to pull him up.

"Get up!" Fíli growled. "Get up, you idiot!"

"Fee—Fíli—" Kíli croaked.

"You stupid—clumsy— _ugh_ ," Fíli said. "You couldn't just let me keep watch, could you? No, you thought you could stay awake the entire trip! You're a special kind of idiot, you know."

Kíli wanted to defend himself, but he could not think of any retort that had any truth in it. Furthermore, in the midst of pain and exhaustion, his mind simply refused to work.

"What's wrong with your side, anyway?" Fíli said.

"N-nothing!" Kíli said quickly. "Nothing, it's just—"

"Clearly it's _something_ ," Fíli said. "I'm not stupid."

Kíli ripped himself away from his brother, breathing hard.

" _Nothing_ is wrong!" he said. "I'm fine! Look. See? Absolutely fine." He stumbled towards his pony and leaned against it, panting.

"But you're _not_ fine," Fíli argued. "Look at you. You need to sleep."

"What do you care?" Kíli snapped.

Fíli stopped and stared at him, his face fraught with confusion.

"I don't," he said.

Kíli looked after Fíli plaintively as he hopped back onto his own pony, avoiding Kíli's gaze; with great effort, he pulled himself back up onto his own pony and carried on.

* * *

Kíli managed to make it through the rest of the day without another incident, though by his own count, he must have nodded off at least a dozen times, if not more. They found a river crossing in the woods, as Kíli had predicted, and crossed without incident. They stopped a couple times to eat and then carried on wordlessly, each avoiding eye contact with the other; the silence between them had become strained and awkward, as though they both expected the other to speak, but neither was willing. Something had changed, and while it was uncomfortable, Kíli only hoped that it was a good sign.

They made camp for the night at the base of a large hill near the eastern edge. They were getting close. By tomorrow, if Kíli had the distances right, they should be able to reach the Brandywine. Kíli plopped down on the ground with a great yawn.

"I'll keep watch tonight," Fíli said.

"No," Kíli said.

"Are you _trying_ to kill yourself?" said Fíli incredulously. "Look, if we are going to make it to the Old Forest, you need to be conscious. I'm not getting dragged down by _you_ because you want to be an idiot."

"I can't… I can't…" Kíli started, but he could not bring himself to say the words. _I can't trust you._

Fíli rolled his eyes. "I promise I won't kill you or run off," he said. "Does that make you feel better?"

"Not particularly," Kíli said. "How do I know you're not lying?"

"What choice do you have?' said Fíli. "Do you really think you can stay awake for another night?"

"No," said Kíli sheepishly. He was already unstable; he desperately needed to sleep. But the fear of losing Fíli when they had gotten so far made him more distraught than the idea of being vastly overtired, and he could be stubborn if he wanted to be.

"Go to _sleep_ ," Fíli said, pushing Kíli down to the ground.

Kíli couldn't argue anymore. He was too tired. He laid his head on the soft moss and closed his eyes, and almost immediately, the world fell away to darkness and dreams.

* * *

_Shnnk._

Kíli jumped up at the sound of his sword leaving his sheath and looked about wildly for the source of the sound. His blood ran cold as he beheld Fíli holding his sword.

"Fíli—Fíli, no—"

"Shut _up_ ," Fíli hissed.

"Fíli, please—"

"I'm not going to kill you," said Fíli in a harsh whisper. "I saw something in the trees. Would you rather I let it come closer without attempting to defend us?"

Though his heart pounded wildly, Kíli shook off his fright and reached for his bow. The sky was still dark; he wondered how long he had slept. He hoped it had been at least a few hours. He scanned their surroundings for signs of movement, and sure enough, there were several figures moving through the woods. They were hunched over and walked erratically, and their arms hung low to the ground. One had a bow on his back, and the others clearly held swords. As they came closer, Kíli recognized the unpleasant guttural sound of their speech, and a shiver ran down his spine.

Orcs.

"Have they spotted us?" Kíli said.

"I don't know, but keep on your guard," Fíli said. "Get an arrow ready."

Kíli nodded and nocked an arrow into his bow. He aimed it carefully at the passing orcs, hoping that they would leave them alone and continue on their way. He hated to let such filth pass by unscathed, but he would rather not get in a fight with what appeared to be at least six orcs when there were only two of them, one overtired and the other mentally compromised.

"The ponies," Fíli said. "They're going for the ponies!"

Kíli's eyes widened as he watched the orcs get closer and closer to where they had tied the ponies a little ways away. He wished they had brought them closer, but there was no grass where they had started the fire, and now they were paying dearly for it.

"Shoot the one with the bow!" Fíli whispered.

Kíli aimed, but hesitated.

" _Shoot it before it sees us!_ " Fíli said urgently. The orc with the bow straightened and faced their way, and Kíli let his arrow fly. It struck true, piercing the foul creature through the chest, and the orc screamed and fell to the ground.

Immediately the other orcs began to bellow angrily in their dark language, searching for the perpetrator, and Fíli backed behind a tree. Kíli quickly shot another, and they began to shriek; one of the orcs rushed forward and untied the ponies. They began to whinny in fear and pull away, but the orc had them fast. Kíli aimed, but he was afraid of hitting his own steed, and he lowered his bow.

"We have to charge them before they get away," Kíli said to Fíli.

"So be it," Fíli said roughly. Without a moment's hesitation, he charged forward with a shout; Kíli hung back for a moment to find Fíli's long knife. He picked it up, stood up, and quickly assessed the fray.

The orcs barely knew what had hit them before they were under attack. Fíli cut one down within moments, and the orc holding the reins of their ponies let go and went after him next. Kíli charged at him with a mighty roar and stabbed him through; he gave a squeal and fell to the ground, and Kíli reclaimed the knife and turned about.

The remaining two orcs had turned their attention to him, outrage distorting their already distorted faces. Kíli reached back for his sword; panic seized him as he realized that it was in Fíli's hands, not on his back, and he took a step backward, holding the knife at the ready against the two orcs, both armed with long curved blades. They looked at each other and then at him, laughing with hissing, guttural noises. One said something to the other in their own language, and then they both charged.

Kíli managed to deflect the blows of the faster one relatively easily, but when the second one joined, he found himself in quite a sticky situation. Deftly he dove to one side as the faster orc swung, and he stabbed forward. The orc he had aimed for jumped backward with a laugh, and the other charged at him again. He ducked just in time, but his move cost him his footing, and he stumbled to the ground, dropping his knife.

" _Fíli_!" he cried.

Within a moment, Fíli was there, and in another moment, the orc standing over him no longer had a head. He turned his attention to the second orc, deflecting the blow of the creature's sword with a mighty swing. The orc cursed at the bond harshly and spat at his feet, and then the creature dove forward, shouting with rage. With a move that Kíli recognized from years of training, Fíli disarmed him and then charged; however, the orc was not giving up yet. He leapt backward with a howl and Fíli missed. With a Khuzdul curse, Fíli dove at the foul creature again, and this time, his blow struck; the orc screamed as Fíli hacked into his side, and then he pulled back and ran him through.

Suddenly the woods were silent once again. Kíli rose to his feet and stared at his brother in utter shock.

"You saved me," he said simply.

"Aye," said Fíli, panting. "I did."

"You… you risked your life… to save me," Kíli said. "Why did you save me?"

Fíli's face scrunched as if he were in pain; he looked at the dead orcs surrounding him as if noticing them for the first time. Slowly, his gaze returned to meet his brother's eyes.

"I… I don't know," he said.

Kíli felt a strange, warm, twisting feeling in the center of his gut. Fíli had _saved_ him. Somewhere, deep down in there, Fíli was coming back, little by little. He had seen it building before, but this was _proof_. Fíli _could_ come back. Fíli _would_ come back.

Then he saw it.

"Fíli," he said tightly, his body involuntarily jerking towards his brother.

"What?" said Fíli, his face still contorted in confusion.

"It's all right, Fee," he said, though his voice shook horribly. "Don't look. Just don't look down, okay?"

"Why, what are you…" Fíli said, trailing off as he did exactly what his brother had told him not to do; even in the darkness of night, Kíli could see his face drain of all color.

"Oh," Fíli said weakly. He dropped the sword in his hand, and Kíli could see that he had started to tremble. Kíli blinked rapidly, his mind racing faster than he could keep up.

"It'll be all right," Kíli repeated. "Don't touch it. It'll be all right."

Fíli squeezed his eyes shut and stood stock still, and for a moment, Kíli did the same.

Maybe, somehow, if he just willed it, the knife now stuck in his brother's abdomen would simply disappear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GASP! What have I done!
> 
> Reminders! Race Against Time illustrations are still being done by Lili. You can find them on her deviantART, lilis-gallery, or on tumblr at lilisrandomstuff. ALSO Mhyin is still doing Illusions fanart! You can see her illustrations on her tumblr, url Mhyin. Plus you should just follow her because she's my tumblr bff.
> 
> I've finally made a playlist for this fic of songs that either fit this fic perfectly or simply give me Illusions feels. There are only five, so if you want to take a listen, they are:
> 
> \- We Fall Apart by We As Human (This is basically the theme song of this fic. If Illusions were a movie, this would be the credits song.)  
> \- Fix You by Coldplay  
> \- Bleeding Out by Imagine Dragons  
> \- Dare You To Move by Switchfoot  
> \- Find Me Tonight by Everyday Sunday
> 
> If you've got your own suggestions feel free to tell me about them!
> 
> And don't forget to review! I know you're freaking out over there! Tell me about your feels!


	22. Pain

In that one moment when Kíli had his eyes closed, he allowed himself to panic.

It was like a heat wave, rushing through his head at a thousand miles an hour and paralyzing his limbs. All sound disappeared into a deafening roar as a tangible fear swept through his veins. Then, as quickly as the panic had come, it ended, and his mind was absolutely clear.

_You have to save him._

Kíli opened his eyes. Fíli looked up at him, panting, his eyes wide and shining. Kíli ran forward and hooked his arms under his brother’s armpits; carefully, he lowered him to the ground, taking care not to make any sudden movements.

“Don’t panic,” he said. “Stay with me, all right? It’s not that bad! It’s not that bad, all right?”

Fíli merely grunted, staring up into the foliage with wide, panicked eyes. Kíli looked down at the knife and swallowed. It didn’t look that big, but blood was already seeping through Fíli’s clothes.

“Don’t move,” Kíli said. “I’ll be back. I’ll be _right_ back.”

Kíli ran to their camp and snatched up his bag as quickly as he could; when he returned to where his brother lay, Fíli was gasping harshly, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Kíli took Fíli’s face in his hands and turned it to face him.

“Look at me, Fíli,” he said. “Don’t look at it. Look at me. I’m going to help you.”

“No,” Fíli gasped. “No, don’t—don’t—leave me alone!”

“I can’t do that, Fee,” Kíli said. “You’re going to have to trust me.”

“Please,” Fíli said, his voice cracking.

Kíli swallowed and bowed his head for a moment. _Keep your composure,_ he told himself. He looked back up at his brother and offered him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. Then he turned his attention to Fíli’s stomach; the knife was stuck in several inches above the hipbone on his left side. He had heard Óin say once that he should leave something like this in for someone more trained to deal with—unless no help was going to come soon. Kíli looked around. They were too far from anywhere—no one was coming soon. He was going to have to take it out himself.

First things first: he had to cut away the fabric. He reached into his bag and pulled out a small knife.

“ _No!_ ” Fíli screamed suddenly, dragging himself backwards.

“Fíli, stop!” Kíli said, diving after his brother and pushing his shoulders to the ground. Fíli struggled against his grip violently, pushing against his chest and whimpering, and Kíli fought for control as carefully as he possibly could. Fíli let out a scream that ripped through Kíli painfully, and he let go, staring at his brother with wide eyes.

“Fíli,” he said, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

But Fíli was beyond reason. His eyes shone with terror far past anything Kíli had ever seen; he looked up at his little brother and tears ran down his face unheeded, his arms crossed above himself defensively. He began to babble pleadingly.

“Please, please don’t hurt me, please, I don’t—I don’t have anything you want, I don’t know what you want from me, I’m sorry, I won’t hurt you again, I’m sorry, please…”

Kíli felt his heart shatter as he watched his brother plead for his life. Never had Fíli ever looked so afraid, so vulnerable, as he did in this moment. The pain was so real that he jerked involuntarily, and Fíli yelped and flinched beneath him. For a moment he was blinded as tears built in his eyes; he blinked them away and let them roll hot down his cheeks. More welled up, and he shook his head quickly. _Focus._

“Well, I’m going to save you, Fíli, with or without your help,” he said.

Quick as lightning, Kíli grabbed Fíli’s arms and crossed them tight across his chest. He leaned his weight on his brother’s arms with the right side of his body and picked up his knife. Fíli screamed and struggled and pleaded, and Kíli did his best to ignore him, cutting away the fabric from the site of the wound. The knife was not large, and it was not in deep, but it was in deep enough to be stuck, and too much blood crept down his brother’s left side. Kíli winced at the sight of it. He reached over Fíli’s body and into his pack for a clean shirt and quickly ripped it into large pieces.

“Hold still,” he said.

His brother did not listen; instead, his struggling and pleading only became more passionate. Kíli took a deep breath to prepare himself and blinked away more tears; then he pressed down on Fíli’s abdomen with one hand, and with the other, he pulled the knife out.

Fíli screamed a bloodcurdling scream and began to struggle anew, and it took all of Kíli’s strength to hold him still on the ground. Blood began to flow freely from the wound, and Kíli swallowed.

“Oh my… that’s… that’s a lot of blood,” he said.

“Stop, stop, please,” Fíli sobbed beneath him. Kíli closed his eyes for a moment and took another deep breath. _Apply pressure._ Fíli was _not_ going to like it. He took his newly-made rag and pressed down on the wound, and a tearful gasp left Fíli’s lips.

“Please, please, stop…” Fíli said, his words trailing off as Kíli continued to press down. Blood seeped through the cloth quickly, and Kíli added another cloth to the first. Fíli’s struggling slowed, and Kíli did not relent.

“It’s all right,” Kíli said. “You don’t have to fight. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Fíli sobbed, but finally, he allowed his body to relax, and Kíli tentatively lifted his weight off his brother. A strained sigh of relief came from Fíli, and Kíli felt a new pang of regret in his chest. No matter how gentle he tried to be, he was still hurting him—and Fíli trusted him even less. He knelt beside him, keeping the pressure on his abdomen constant, and looked up to his face. Clean tear tracks ran down his dirty cheeks; his eyes were closed tight and his lips were pressed together. Kíli’s shattered heart crumbled even more, and he sniffed. He could still feel the tears rolling down his own face.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Fíli opened his eyes and met his brother’s gaze.

“What?” he croaked.

“I’m sorry,” Kíli repeated. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I would never hurt you. Not if I could help it.”

Fíli’s brow furrowed as he stared at Kíli, and for a moment, Kíli could have sworn that he saw a flicker of recognition in his brother’s eyes—but if it had been there at all, it was gone immediately, and the darkness that had become too familiar settled back in its place. Kíli looked down and took a deep breath.

For several minutes, there was silence between them; Kíli focused his attention on trying to stop the bleeding, and Fíli lay quietly, save for the occasional sniffle and hiccup as he continued to cry. When blood stopped trickling down Fíli’s side, Kíli spoke.

“All right, Fíli, I need to bandage this now,” he said. “I need you to sit up.”

Fíli turned his head and looked up at Kíli plaintively and nodded, and Kíli reached for one of his brother’s hands. With a gasp, Fíli pulled back, and Kíli sighed.

“I need you to hold these cloths in place,” he said. “Give me your hand.”

Fíli allowed Kíli to grab his hand, and Kíli placed it over the bloody cloths that covered the knife wound. He pushed down, and Fíli hissed.

“Keep pressing on it,” Kíli said. “I’m going to help you up.” He leaned over and slipped his hands under Fíli’s shoulders.

“W-what are you doing?” Fíli said.

“I’m going to lift you up on the count of three. Keep pressing on that. Ready?”

Fíli took a deep breath and nodded.

“One, two, _three_.”

Kíli lifted Fíli’s torso carefully, but Fíli still cried out in pain, and he grimaced. He pulled Fíli forward and leaned his brother’s head against his shoulder; then he took a particularly long piece of cloth and began to wrap it around Fíli’s abdomen.

“All right, now move your hands,” he said. Fíli did as he was told, letting his hands drop into his lap; the weight of his head pressed into Kíli’s collarbone, and Kíli could feel every sniffle and every hitched breath against his shoulder. For a moment, Kíli paused as a warm feeling spread in his chest. He thought back to nights, so many nights, when Fíli had awoken from some bad dream and laid his head against his brother’s shoulder just like this—sometimes he would simply breathe deeply; sometimes tears would fall. But the fact remained that it was the one instance, the only instance, when Kíli took care of Fíli—just like he was taking care of Fíli now.

But Fíli was not comforted by Kíli anymore. As quickly as the warmth had spread in Kíli’s chest, it faded, and Kíli was left feeling cold and alone. He had Fíli here, but he did not have _Fíli_ ; he did not have his brother. These moments, these small moments when Kíli thought he had his brother back—they weren’t real. They were illusions, deceptions he willed himself to believe and yet forced himself to push away at the same time. Not until he knew for sure that his brother recognized him would he allow himself to believe it.

As gently as he could, Kíli tied his makeshift bandage tightly around Fíli’s abdomen. When he pulled the tie tight, Fíli gasped, and once again Kíli felt regret course through his veins.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I’m done.”

Instantly Fíli attempted to pull back, but he had barely moved an inch when he groaned and his hand clapped over his wound. His head fell back against Kíli’s shoulder. Kíli’s hands moved of their own accord, ready to embrace, but Kíli stopped himself. Fíli would not accept the gesture—it would only make him more afraid.

“Come on,” he said softly. “We need to get away from these bodies.”

“I don’t—I don’t know if I can walk,” Fíli said tearfully.

“I’ll help you,” Kíli said.

“But I don’t know if I _can_ ,” Fíli argued. Kíli could feel the hot tears seeping through his shirt, and his stomach twisted painfully. He took a deep breath.

“You can lean on me,” he said. “I know, it’s not ideal, but please, just tr—just help yourself for a minute. You know we need to get away from these orcs.”

Without waiting for a reply, Kíli shifted his weight and wrapped an arm around his brother; he took Fíli’s arm and pulled it behind his neck.

“Ready?” he said.

“Please, I can’t,” Fíli begged.

“Just over there,” Kíli said. “ _Right_ over there. It’s not that far. Just to the fire.”

Fíli looked towards the fire and swallowed. He looked at the dead orcs surrounding him, took a breath, and nodded.

“On the count of three, we’re going to stand,” Kíli said. “Just like before. One, two, three.”

Even though Kíli bore most of Fíli’s weight as they rose from the ground, his brother still let out a scream and nearly collapsed. Kíli’s knees started to buckle, but he held himself and Fíli up.

“I can’t, I can’t,” Fíli whimpered, clutching his stomach.

“You can,” Kíli said. “Just put one foot in front of the other. I’ll help you as much as I can.”

Once they actually got moving, it was easier than Kíli thought it would be to keep going. They reached the fire slowly, and Kíli hooked his arms under Fíli’s again and lowered him to the ground, holding his torso upright. Then he gently took hold of the back of Fíli’s neck and the small of his back; Fíli gasped and started, but Kíli focused on lowering him as carefully as possible into a horizontal position. A strained whimper left Fíli’s lips, but he allowed Kíli to continue until his blond head was touching the mossy ground.

“I’ll get you a blanket,” Kíli said, rising quickly to his feet. “I’ll help you with a shirt later—for now, we’ll just keep you warm.”

Fíli lay wordlessly as Kíli snatched up his own blanket and laid it over his brother; Fíli avoided his caretaker’s eye, turning his head to the side. Kíli watched a tear roll from the corner of his eye across the bridge of his nose. He swallowed.

“Lie still for a while,” he said. “You rest. I’ll figure out what to do.”

Fíli did not reply. He lay still as directed, save for the occasional tearful hiccup, and Kíli left him alone for the time being. He built up the fire again and sat across from Fíli, his back to the flames and his knees drawn up to his chest.

 _What am I going to do now?_ he thought. Orcs had _not_ been a part of his plan. Now Fíli was injured—and Kíli did not know how deeply—and their ponies had bolted. Orc blades were not clean, either, and Kíli was not an idiot; he knew that Fíli was at a very high risk for infection. He had to get him somewhere, and he had to get him there quickly.

Kíli looked out at the land south and sighed. They were so far from home, and Kíli would never forgive himself if this expedition became the death of his brother. Fíli’s terrified face filled his mind, and he gasped tearfully and pressed his palms against his eyelids. He felt sick. Fíli should _never_ have felt so afraid of him. What had that creature done to his brother?

He took a deep breath and lifted his head once again to stare out into the fields below the Hills of Evendim. Now was not the time to cry over what he could not change on his own. He had to find some place to help Fíli. He was not well-acquainted with this area, but he knew that they were close to the Northfarthing of the Shire; Hobbits were suspicious of Dwarves, but they were a kindhearted people, and if Kíli showed up at the door and asked for help, certainly they would give it.

From his place high up on the hill, Kíli could see the Brandywine winding through the Shire; it meandered west as it flowed further south, separating the Greenfields from the lands east that did not belong to the quiet land of Hobbit-kind. He thought back to the night before, just before he had fallen asleep, how he had seen the lights of Hobbit homes far below; they had not seemed so far off. He straightened and looked out into the fields. Surely there must be a home or a farm close enough to reach within a day, even going slow. He looked back at Fíli; he had stopped crying, it seemed, but Kíli could see the lump of his hand under the blanket covering his wound. If he could just get him _there_ …

He opened his mouth to call Fíli’s name, but then he stopped himself. Let Fíli rest for now, without the fear and stress of having to move in his condition. Kíli burned with anger at the orcs that had attempted to steal their ponies—and kill his brother. Now he had a terrified and injured brother on his hands and the only way to get him to help was to make him walk.

He would deal with that in a little while. Fíli needed to rest. For now, he would sit and wait.


	23. Safe

"Come on, Fíli, keep going. You're doing great."

The going was slow and painful for Fíli and Kíli as they made their way down the hill towards the Shire. Fíli leaned against Kíli, his left arm slung around Kíli's neck and his right hand clutching white-knuckled to a branch his brother had converted into a sturdy walking-stick. He had rested for a few hours, getting maybe a moment or two of sleep; however, they both knew that Kíli's first aid was not going to be enough. They needed to find someone who could help Fíli. They needed a safe place.

"I don't _feel_ great," Fíli grumbled. His hair hung down lank and dripping in the rain; Kíli's clung to his forehead and his cheeks uncomfortably. He was miserable, but as miserable as he felt, he knew that Fíli had to be feeling much worse. When they had decided to make for the Shire, Fíli had tried to sit up himself and failed miserably. Begrudgingly, he had accepted Kíli's help.

Then it had started to rain.

Kíli glanced at his brother worriedly. Fíli's face was pale and drawn, and Kíli could feel him trembling with the effort of walking. He cursed the orcs that had tried to steal their ponies in his mind angrily—had they not gone through that part of the woods, none of this would have happened.

Of course, if Kíli hadn't been a fool in the first place looking for pixies by the creek, none of this would have happened, either.

With a wince, Kíli looked away from Fíli and returned his gaze to the way ahead. They had made about a quarter of the distance they could have usually covered in the same time, had Fíli been well and whole, and it looked like they still had a ways to go. At least they still had plenty of hours of daylight left, though the summer day had been darkened and severely dampened by the rain. They should be able to make it to the farm Kíli had seen far in the distance by nightfall.

They walked slowly in silence for a while, each of the brothers wrapped up in his own thoughts. Kíli wondered what was going through Fíli's head, but he dared not ask, feeling that any words that came out of his mouth would be met with derision. He could tell that Fíli was conflicted; though the words he spoke were still contemptuous, he had not attempted to harm Kíli in any way since they had stolen away from home. He had even _helped_ Kíli on several occasions, though of course those occasions were riddled with insults and exasperation. Something was changing in Fíli, and it was clear that the poor confused Dwarf had no idea why.

"Stop, stop," Fíli said finally, panting. His face was twisted in pain, and Kíli could see and feel that his knees were wobbling. He carefully helped his brother down to the ground, but Fíli could not hold himself up.

"Lean into me," Kíli said.

"What? No!" Fíli said incredulously. He looked at Kíli with a deep frown.

"What are you going to do, then?" Kíli said. "Lay on the wet ground and let the rain fall into your face?"

Fíli curled his lip and said nothing. Kíli sighed.

"All right," he said. "What if we sit back-to-back? You can lean against me that way. Is that better?"

"Fine," Fíli grumbled, and Kíli scooted around to sit behind him. Fíli leaned back, and a strained sigh left him; Kíli bowed his head, and streams of water flowed down his face.

"How are you feeling?" Kíli said after a few moments of silence.

"How do you _think_?" Fíli retorted.

"You don't have to answer every question so harshly," Kíli mumbled quietly, but over the din of the pouring rain, he barely heard himself. Fíli shuffled behind him, and a strained sound came from his chest. Kíli frowned.

"We should make it to the farm I saw today," Kíli said. "It'll take us a while, but we should make it."

"Are we going to be walking all day?" Fíli said. There was an edge of anxiety in his voice that pierced Kíli's heart.

"Probably," he admitted. "We can rest every so often. But we agreed—we need to find shelter for tonight. Some place with hot water and clean bedding; maybe someone who has some supplies they'd lend us."

"I know," Fíli said. "It just—it hurts."

Kíli blinked. _That was awfully transparent._

"I'm sorry, Fíli," he said. "I really am."

"It's not your fault," said Fíli.

Kíli stiffened, shocked, but Fíli said no more; instead, he lowered his head and leaned more heavily into his brother. A lump developed in Kíli's throat, but he swallowed it back.

"I miss you," he whispered, so quietly that he didn't even hear himself.

* * *

By the time Fíli and Kíli reached the farm Kíli had seen, the sky was dark; it wasn't quite sunset, but it was getting close, and with the dark, heavy rainclouds overhead, there was no beautiful orange sky to behold. _Dreary._ That was the word for it. Still, warmth spread in his chest at the sight of the cheery fire within the windows of the hobbit home. It was built directly into a hill, and golden windows shone from one side.

Together, the Dwarves made their way through a pasture to the front door. By this point, Fíli was barely making it along at all; he had leaned almost all of his weight into Kíli, and whatever Kíli wasn't holding up just dragged behind. He kept his head bowed, and Kíli had heard him sniffling more than once.

"We're here, Fíli," he said. "We've nearly made it. Hold on, just a little bit further."

Kíli stopped at the door and took a deep breath, offering up a supplicant prayer. Then he knocked.

It felt like an eternity before the door opened, but open it did, and before Fíli and Kíli stood a sandy-haired hobbit with round cheeks and a stern mouth. He blinked, astonished, his mouth falling open; for a moment, he said nothing, and Kíli opened his mouth to speak.

"No, thank you," said the hobbit, and he shut the door in their faces.

"Hey!" Kíli said indignantly. He pounded on the door. "Don't leave us out here!" he shouted into the wood. "My brother's been hurt—we need help!"

There was no reply on the other side of the door. Fíli leaned against him heavily, shivering, and a desperation rose inside him; he pounded even harder on the door.

" _Please!_ " he said.

"Adric Bracegirdle, did you leave people in need out in the rain when they need help?" said a shrill, feminine voice.

"They're _dwarves_ , Bella!" the hobbit replied. " _Dwarves!_ In the Shire! What will the neighbors think if we take them in?"

"If any of our neighbors are spying on us in the rain, that's their own problem," said the feminine voice again. "You let them in this second."

"Bella…"

"Fine, then I will!" she said. Moments later, the door swung open, and Kíli stared at the plump, dark-haired hobbit woman with wide eyes. He had thought that hobbits were all quiet, docile creatures, but this one seemed to have a ferocity about her that rivaled his mother's.

"Oh, goodness, what's happened to you two?" she said. "Come in, quickly, please."

"Thank you," Kíli said, helping his shivering brother through the door. He dipped his head respectfully. "Kíli at your service. This is my brother, Fíli. Do you have anywhere he can lie down? He's hurt."

"Of course," said Bella. Then she raised her voice and called, "Eva!"

A young hobbit lass—Kíli wasn't sure about hobbit maturity, but she looked as if she were just coming into adulthood—came into the hall at her mother's call. Her gaze settled on the two unfamiliar dwarves in her home, and her brow furrowed; she turned her glance questioningly towards her parents.

"Mama, what's going on?" she said.

"Prepare a guest room for these two," she said. "One with a fireplace. Quickly! And light the fire."

"Yes, Mama," Eva said, and she disappeared again down the hall.

"Please, come this way," said Bella, gesturing for the two to follow her. She walked slowly enough for Kíli to lead Fíli along, Adric following close behind, and they turned into a parlor almost immediately. It was eerily similar to the living room in Fíli and Kíli's own home, and for a moment, Kíli thought he had suddenly arrived back in the Blue Mountains. He shook the feeling off and led Fíli to the couch near the fire.

"Here," he said to his brother, taking the walking stick out of his hand and handing it to the still-silent Adric. "Lay down for a bit. They've got a room for us."

Fíli made a noncommittal noise in response, his eyes closing the moment he lay down and his hands drifting to his wounded abdomen. Kíli smoothed the wet hair out of Fíli's face, and Fíli did not push him away.

"What happened to him?" Adric finally said.

"Orcs," Kíli said. "They tried to steal our ponies, and we attacked them… the ponies got away, and Fíli got stabbed."

"Orcs!" Adric said fearfully. "Where were they? Close by?"

"No, up in the hills," Kíli said. "We've been walking all day. We'd have been here sooner, but…" he nodded towards Fíli. "We'd lost the ponies."

"That's why it's dangerous to travel too far," Adric said bumptiously. "There's strange critters abroad. Nothin' good out there."

"We've traveled plenty of times without any trouble," Kíli said.

"Well, folk like _you_ …" Adric started, but when he saw the look on Kíli's face, he faltered and reddened. "Eh, never mind. I'll see about some food for you two." He departed sheepishly.

"Never mind him," said Bella. "Do you have anything else to wear? I can take your wet clothes, if you'd like. We'll hang them over the fire."

"Thank you," Kíli said. "I've got some dry clothes in our packs—once we're settled in, I'll hang them in the guest room. But I need some other things for now."

"What can I get for you?" said Bella kindly, glancing at Fíli's face.

"I need clean cloth strips—long ones," Kíli said. "I didn't have anything good to bind his wound with. And boiling water. And yarrow, if you have it." With all the moving around, the wound was probably bleeding again.

Eva came into the parlor just then. "The beds and the fire are ready, Mama," she said.

"Oh, good," said Bella. She turned to Kíli. "Can your brother walk a little further? It's not too far."

Fíli moaned from the couch, and Kíli frowned. "I'll help him," he said. "Come on, Fíli."

Fíli allowed Kíli to help him up; he moaned again, stumbling and leaning into Kíli.

"Hurts," he muttered. "I'm tired…"

"We're almost there," Kíli said. "You can make it."

Eva led the two dwarves down the hall; as promised, it was a short trek, and Fíli would have fallen into bed if Kíli had not been there to help him lie down. He was exhausted, Kíli knew. The day's walk had been slow going for him, but Fíli had said that he felt as if he had exercised that one part of his body around the wound nonstop for a week—not to mention that he had lost quite a bit of blood that morning.

"Is he going to be all right?" Eva said, watching Fíli with round eyes.

"I hope so," Kíli said. "Thank you for your help."

Eva nodded and left the room, shutting the door behind her. Kíli dropped his pack and peeled off his wet jacket and tunic, and then pulled his one remaining dry shirt out of his pack and threw it on. He then set to work helping Fíli out of his. When he had gotten Fíli's jacket off, he immediately spied the red staining his brother's tunic and swallowed. Not only had he bled through the makeshift bandages—he'd bled through his shirt, too. Kíli peeled the wet shirt off; the bandages underneath were also soaked, and he unwrapped them carefully. The wound underneath was still open and bleeding, but not as freely as it had before. Still, if Kíli waited a few moments, fresh blood beaded up, and Kíli knew that was not a good sign. He ran to the door and opened it; Bella shrieked, having just approached the door, and Kíli jumped at the sight and sound of her.

"Sorry," he said. "I was just looking for you, actually. Is this everything?"

"It is," said Bella, stepping into the room as Kíli moved out of her way. She peered around Kíli to Fíli, who lay still with closed eyes and a grimace upon his face. Her gaze turned to Kíli. "Is there anything I can do?"

Kíli twisted his lips and looked at the hobbit woman, unsure.

"There is one thing—but I don't know if I'll need it—"

"Tell me what I can do to help," said Bella, taking on a familiar motherly tone. Kíli let free a half-smile and nodded.

"I might need someone to calm him down," Kíli said. "I don't know—I might not, but just in case…"

"I'll do what I can," Bella said. She set down her burdens on the bedside table and stood next to the bed; her eyes found the stab wound, and she winced and looked away.

"You don't have to look at it," Kíli said kindly. "I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault, was it, dear?" said Bella.

Kíli didn't answer. He turned his attention to Fíli's stomach, dipping a cloth into the scalding water and wincing as he wrung it out; then he gently laid it on Fíli's bloodstained belly and cleaned the skin around the wound. Fíli remained still, too tired to fight back. Kíli dipped the stained cloth back into the water and wrung it out again, and this time, he went for the wound itself. Fíli started and hissed, and his hands flew up to protect himself. Kíli stopped for a moment and looked at Fíli until he caught his shining eyes.

"I'm not going to hurt you, remember?" Kíli said softly. "I'm still trying to help you. I promise."

Fíli relaxed his hands, though his eyes still shone, and Bella looked between the two dwarves curiously. Kíli continued cleaning the wound as gently has he could manage, though he had to stop every few moments and speak comforting words and hope that Fíli would relax. It worked for a while—until Fíli cried out and pushed Kíli's hands away.

"Stop!" he said.

Kíli sighed. "All right, I'm done cleaning," he said. "But we're not done. You're bleeding again."

Fíli looked dangerously close to a breaking point. His teeth were gritted and his eyes were shut tight; his fists clenched and unclenched at his side. Kíli took a deep breath and reached for the yarrow.

"It's all right," said Bella suddenly. Kíli looked up at the hobbit in surprise. She laid a hand on Fíli's face, and the dwarf started and opened his eyes to stare at her.

"He's just trying to help you," Bella continued. "You'll be fine—just let him work. I won't let him hurt you."

Fíli did not speak, but his eyes softened as Bella nodded and smiled softly. Then, unexpectedly, he reached up and took her hand. Bella started, but recovered quickly, smiling again at Fíli. Then she raised her gaze to Kíli. He nodded to her gratefully.

"Thank you," he said.

"Hurry," she said. "For his sake."

Kíli nodded again and bit into the yarrow, grimacing at the bitter taste; after chewing for a few moments, he spit it back out and applied it to the knife wound. Fíli made a small sound, but he did not struggle, keeping his gaze locked on Bella. Kíli folded a bit of the clean cloth and pressed it over the yarrow.

"Good. You're doing very well," Bella said. "Just a little bit longer."

"I need to bind it again now," Kíli said. "Can you help me get him sitting up?"

Bella helped Kíli lift Fíli, who cooperated wordlessly. Kíli pulled Fíli's head into his shoulder and wrapped the cloth around his torso; when he had finished, he laid Fíli back down and made sure the wrapping was snug.

"Should be good for a while," Kíli said. "I wish Óin were here… he could stitch this up. I don't know how…"

"We should leave him to rest," said Bella.

"Aye," Kíli said, rising. Fíli closed his eyes, and Bella pulled the blanket over him. She and Kíli left the room. Bella led her guest to the kitchen and asked him to sit at the small table in the center of the room. There was already plenty of food cooking—they had arrived just in time for supper—but she brought out some small cakes and started to fill a kettle for tea. After glancing at Kíli's face, she set down the kettle disappeared for a minute, returning with a bottle of wine. Kíli chuckled.

"My mum always puts on tea when we're upset," he said.

"Well, I'm not your mum, am I?" said Bella with a sly grin, pouring him a glass. He accepted it gratefully, and Bella sat down across from him.

"Now, before my husband comes back from wherever he disappeared to instead of getting food for you two, I'd like you to explain," she said.

Kíli blinked. "Where would you like me to start?" he said.

"Well, for starters," she said, "why is your brother afraid of you?"

Kíli sighed and swallowed before continuing. "He doesn't remember me," he said. "He—he was attacked by a creature in a cave, and it…"

He stopped and passed a hand over his eyes, leaning back in his chair. The memory of the creature was coming back to him, and he would rather not remember that right now. He had recovered well, but the thought of that creature still made his stomach clench.

"It's a horrible creature that makes you forget everything about your past," he said quickly. "And it leaves you feeling afraid. More afraid than I—you've ever felt in your entire life. And Fíli was just so _angry_ … I still don't know why. He tried to—"

There he stopped himself. This hobbit didn't need to know everything.

"He tried to what?" she prompted.

Kíli shook his head and brought the wine glass to his lips. Bella frowned and studied his face carefully.

"We have to get to the Old Forest," said Kíli. "There's a fellow there I've heard of that might be able to help him. Some of my people in the Blue Mountains have met him—Tom Bombadil. Have you heard of him?"

Bella furrowed her brow and shook her head. "No," she said. "But folk in Buckland might've. They're queer sorts on the other side of the Brandywine—know all sorts of queer things."

"We weren't going to go through the Shire at all," Kíli said. "I'm sorry to have bothered you."

"It's not me you need to worry about, dear!" said Bella. "My husband's the one worried about what the neighbors will think. You're someone in need, and that's all that matters to me."

"That's strange, for a hobbit," Kíli said, though at this point, he could not be surprised. She had been extremely helpful—far more than Kíli had expected.

"Well, that's what I think," she huffed.

Kíli opened his mouth to reply, but just then, a very small hobbit lass walked into the room. Her curls were tied in ribbons, and she stopped dead in the doorway, eyeing Kíli warily.

"It's all right, Lily," Bella said. "Come meet our guest."

Lily ran to her mother, keeping a wide berth from Kíli, and Bella scooped her up into her lap. Lily tugged at one red ear and stared at Kíli with wide brown eyes, leaning into Bella.

"Hello, Lily," Kíli said. "My name is Kíli."

"Why's there hair on your face?" Lily asked.

"It's a beard," said Kíli with a chuckle. "Or, what barely counts as one, for a dwarf."

Lily looked up inquisitively at Bella, who laughed heartily at the confused look on her daughter's face.

"Dwarves grow hair on their faces, Lily," she said. "They grow taller than hobbits and they don't have hair on their feet."

"Did you take it off your feet and put it on your face?" said Lily, turning to Kíli, her eyes bright with curiosity.

Kíli laughed then—really laughed, something he felt like he hadn't done in forever. It felt good.

"No, it just grows there," he said, still laughing. Lily laughed too.

"You're lying!" she giggled. "You put it on your face!"

"I promise, I am not lying," Kíli said. "Do you believe me?"

Lily did not answer. Instead, she grinned, confused, and hugged her mother. Kíli smiled warmly at the small hobbit lass.

"Master Kíli is going to join us for dinner," Bella said to Lily. "Speaking of which, it's almost time to eat. Get your sisters—your father and your brothers should be in soon."

Lily scooted off Bella's lap and dashed out of the room, casting one last glance at Kíli before she disappeared. Kíli chuckled, still amused by the child's confusion.

"How old is she?" he said.

"Four," said Bella. "She's the youngest. My eldest you've met—that's Eva. She's twenty-three. Then there's Andy, Aldo, Angelica, and Molly. You'll meet them at supper."

"I look forward to it," Kíli said.

* * *

Though Adric Bracegirdle was unhappy about his unexpected guests, he was surprisingly cordial at dinner, and his children followed suit, though they had some unexpected and amusing questions. After an extensive meal where everyone had enough to eat and more, Kíli retired to the room he was to share with Fíli, carrying some food with him.

"Fíli, are you awake?" he called as he stepped into the room.

Fíli did not move, and Kíli could see the blankets over him moving steadily. He set down the food he had brought on a small table and sat on Fíli's bed, looking his brother over. The evidence of pain was etched into his face; even in his sleep, his brow was furrowed, and every so often he hiccupped as if he had been crying. He probably had. Kíli frowned.

A knock came at the door, and Kíli looked up.

"Come in," he called.

To his surprise, Adric stepped into the room. He looked behind him warily, then shut the door.

"Can I help you, Mister Bracegirdle?" Kíli said cordially. He didn't like the look in the hobbit's eye.

"I have a request," Adric said.

Kíli waited for him to continue. Adric swallowed.

"Well, see, Master Kíli," he said, "we're not used to folk like you in these parts. This is a peaceful place, and we don't get wrapped up in adventures or trouble of any sort. That's what the Shire is about, see."

Kíli's heart sank, and the corners of his mouth pulled down. "What are you saying?"

"You've got a bed tonight and breakfast tomorrow, but then I'm going to have to ask you to move along," said Adric. He avoided Kíli's eye when he spoke.

Kíli's heart sank even further, and he looked at Fíli. He struggled to come up with a response; on one hand, he needed a safe place for Fíli to rest—but on the other hand, he had already imposed on these poor hobbits enough. He had no right to insist they stay longer.

"I understand," he said finally. "I am sorry to have bothered you. I wouldn't have come at all had Fíli not been hurt."

Adric kept his gaze down. "Perhaps they'll help you in Buckland," he said. "You can make your way there."

Kíli nodded. "Thank you for your hospitality," he forced himself to say, though this haughty hobbit left him with a bad taste in his mouth. His elders had taught him not to show it, and he lived up to his education. He smiled humorlessly and nodded to the hobbit.

Adric nodded in return and let himself out, still avoiding Kíli's eye. Kíli sighed when the door clicked shut, and he tried to force away the anxious thoughts that immediately clouded in. He could deal with those in the morning. He looked back down at Fíli.

"Sleep well, Fíli," he said. Then he stood and made his way to the second bed in the room and lay down on his side, facing his brother.

At least they had a place to sleep tonight. Who knew what tomorrow would bring—but for tonight, Fíli was safe and alive, and that was all that mattered.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOOOOOO there is a bonus chapter thingy from Thorin and Dís's POV on my tumblr! I have changed my url. I am now mistergandalf. So if you go to my blog and click the little circle that says "FIC:ILLUSIONS" you will see the bonus thing. It's a little far down the page (currently; if you're reading this way in the future you might have to go back for a few pages) so keep scrolling. Also follow my blog. :P
> 
> I just wanted to let you guys know that if you ever want to send me a PM on here or an ask/fan mail on tumblr, feel free! Don't be afraid to talk to me. I don't bite. And I love giving spoilers. (I really do love giving spoilers, so be careful what you ask, because I WILL ANSWER.)
> 
> Important reminder: I am a student. Specifically, an English major with a Writing minor. I have a LOT of reading and writing to do for school. I will get chapters done when I can, but while school is in session, you're going to have to practice patience. But I promise you from the depths of my heart—I will NOT leave this fic unfinished. I WILL complete it. Do not fear! But please stop asking me if I'm going to continue because it stresses me out. And you don't need to apologize for doing it if you have. I forgive you. Let's both move on.


	24. Help

For a moment when Kíli first awoke, the past couple weeks seemed to be only a nightmare; after all, he was in a warm bed, the fire was crackling, and Fíli was—

Fíli wasn’t beside him.

Kíli started and looked around, his mind in a confused blur. Where was he? Where was his brother? As he surveyed his surroundings, the previous day caught up to him: the orcs, the rain, the hobbits… _ah, yes_. That was where they were. The guest room in the hobbit home… and Fíli would be in the other bed. He looked to his right, searching for blond braids shining in the firelight, but Fíli was not there.

Immediately Kíli ripped off his covers, jumped out of bed, and ran into the hall, praying that Fíli was simply somewhere in the hobbit hole and had not run off in the night.

“Fíli?” he called nervously, looking left and right down the long corridor. Voices drifted down from a room to his right, and he walked that way quickly, still praying that Fíli would be there. Soon he happened upon a sunny dining room, and he peered in; at the table sat several hobbits, and much to his relief, Fíli. He breathed out slowly and relaxed.

“Mister Kíli!” called Lily as she caught his eye. She wiggled out of her chair and ran to him, and much to Kíli’s surprise, latched onto his legs in a warm embrace. Kíli grabbed onto the wall to balance himself and chuckled.

“Hello there, Lily,” he said. “How are you?”

“Good!” Lily said, finally letting him go. “I had breakfast with Mister Fíli! He’s got more hair on his face than you do!”

“Well, he’s older than I am,” Kíli said. He squatted down to her level and whispered loudly, “Don’t tell him, but I’m a mite jealous.”

Lily looked at him with a furrowed brow and then giggled, looking sidelong at Fíli. Kíli glanced up at his brother; he was sitting hunched over at the table, one hand on his injured abdomen and the other holding a fork. The two met each other’s eyes, but Fíli looked away quickly and focused on his food. Kíli frowned.

“Lily, let Mister Kíli sit down and eat,” said Bella from the table. Lily skipped back to the table and sat down, and Kíli chose an empty seat, leaving a chair between him and his brother. Eva set down a plate for him, and he picked out some eggs and ham eagerly, his appetite increasing at the smell of the most wholesome meal he had had in days.

“Eat as much as you’d like,” said Bella. “My husband may want you out, but he did offer you breakfast, and I intend to set you off with full bellies.”

“Thank you,” said Kíli through a mouthful of food. Bella’s two other daughters, Angelica and Molly, giggled, and Kíli looked at them, puzzled.

“What?” he said.

“Nothing,” Molly said, still giggling. Kíli shrugged and continued to eat. He would take a full breakfast if he could get it, and Fíli certainly needed the strength. He grimaced as he thought of the pain Fíli would go through as they walked for another day, but it could not be helped. Adric had made it clear that he had no wish to help them, and Kíli had no right to impose himself upon these poor hobbits. He knew how hobbits looked upon dwarves, and Bella and her children had done more than was common among their folk.

“Where are your sons?” Kíli said to Bella. He had enjoyed their company at dinner the night before; they reminded him of him and Fíli when they were younger, even in their age difference—five years apart.

“Out with my husband on the farm,” Bella replied. “He took them out early. I’m sure he was meaning to avoid you.” She turned to Kíli with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, and Kíli smiled. He didn’t think much of Bella’s husband, but he knew his manners well enough to refrain from speaking negative words about him in his wife’s presence, no matter what she said herself.

“Will you be all right, Fíli?” Kíli said, turning to his brother. Fíli looked up from his food, his eyes flashing in alarm, but he slowly nodded.

“Aye,” he said quietly. “I just want to get this over with.”

“Forgive me for asking, but what is it that you two are doing?” said Eva.

Kíli looked to Fíli, who glanced at him for a moment and then went back to eating. Kíli thought he caught the slightest shake of his head.

“It’s a long story,” he said. “And not really… breakfast conversation.”

Eva eyed him curiously, but she did not press further. Bella looked from her daughter to Kíli, and he wondered how much he would tell her later; however, that was not really his concern. Once they were gone, they would probably never see these hobbits again, and it would not matter what they knew or what they thought.

They finished their breakfast in relative silence, though the hobbits talked among each other and occasionally asked their dwarven guests questions. Kíli answered for himself and for Fíli, who was clearly not in the mood for talking; though he did not say anything, Kíli caught his grateful expression several times, and it warmed his heart. After their meal, Kíli helped Fíli up and into the parlor they had sat in the night before. To his surprise, Fíli offered no begrudging looks or words; he simply cooperated. He left Fíli there to rest and went back to the guest room to pack their things.

As Kíli got his and Fíli’s things together, there was a knock at the door. He opened it and peered out, and immediately Eva forced her way in and shut the door behind her. Kíli stepped back and stared at her in surprise.

“I’m going to help you,” she said in a loud whisper.

Kíli blinked. “What?”

“I’m going to help you,” Eva repeated. “Papa doesn’t want to help you, but I know that your brother can’t walk very far. I’ll help you get to Buckland. I can get you that far.”

Kíli stared at the young hobbit lass before him, dumbstruck. He had certainly not been expecting this at all.

“Are you sure?” he forced himself to say.

Eva nodded, her eyes wide. Kíli ran a hand through his hair and searched for words.

“How?” he said.

“Papa’s got a wagon, and he’s not using it today,” said Eva. “I’ll take you to the Brandywine Bridge. I don’t dare go farther, but that’ll save you at least a day’s walk. From there you could reach the Old Forest by nightfall.”

“Th-thank you,” said Kíli. He wasn’t sure that he should be accepting the help of a rebellious young hobbit, but if it saved Fíli a day’s walk, he would take what he could get. “Thank you so much. Truly.”

“Meet me out in the pasture closest to the road,” Eva said. “If I’m not there, wait for me. I’ll be there—I promise.”

Kíli nodded, and without another word, Eva slipped back out of the room.

His mind in a daze, Kíli continued to pack up. He wasn’t sure what to feel—should he be ecstatic or concerned? Should he worry about Eva? No—that wasn’t his place. If she wanted to go against her father’s wishes, that was her own business. He wasn’t her father or her brother; he wasn’t even a hobbit. It wasn’t as if he and Fíli had never gone against Thorin’s wishes, especially given his position at the moment. Fíli would surely be grateful for the help.

When he finished packing, he ran out to the parlor with their things and found Fíli, who was reclined on the couch with closed eyes and a pained expression upon his face. He did not open them as Kíli came closer and set down their supplies; in fact, he did not react at all until Kíli laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Fíli, we don’t have to walk,” he said in a low voice.

Fíli blinked slowly and stared at him with a furrowed brow.

“We don’t?” he said hopefully.

“Eva says she’ll cart us as far as the Brandywine Bridge,” Kíli said. “We’ll have to walk on foot from there, but that will save us a lot of distance and a lot of walking.”

Fíli breathed a sigh of relief and smiled, a sight Kíli had not seen in a long time. He closed his eyes again and laid his head back.

“Tell me when we’re ready to leave,” he said.

“I’m going to say goodbye to Bella and thank her for her hospitality, and then I’ll come and get you. Rest.”

Kíli left Fíli on the couch and made his way to the kitchen—his first guess as to where Bella would be. She was indeed there, munching on a bit of bread and reading a book. He stepped into the room and cleared his throat; Bella looked up and smiled warmly.

“On your way, then?” she said.

“Aye,” Kíli replied. “Thank you for all your kindness. I know Fíli appreciates it just as much, if not more, than I do.”

“Take good care of him,” Bella said.

Kíli blinked and bowed his head.

“I’m trying,” he said. “He just makes it hard sometimes.”

“I think you’re doing a fine job,” Bella said. “I don’t know him, and I don’t know you, but I can read people—and I can see that no matter what he thinks of you, he’s starting to trust you. Have hope, Kíli.”

Kíli looked up with wide eyes. “You really think so?”

“Even in the past day, he’s become less afraid of you,” said Bella. She tilted her head to the side. “You haven’t noticed? He has offered no protest any time you have tried to help him.”

Looking back, Kíli could see that Bella was right. The warmth that had started to spread in the past few days in Kíli’s chest expanded, and he smiled.

 “Ah, but I have one more thing for you,” Bella said, nodding to a basket beside her on the table that Kíli had failed to notice. “Take this. There’s food and some more cloth if you need it for your brother. And may fortune follow you wherever your path may lead.”

“Thank you, Bella,” he said. “Thank you for everything.”

Bella smiled sadly and reached out her hand; Kíli took it, and she squeezed gently and let go.

“Goodbye, Kíli.”

Kíli nodded and left the room, making his way back to his brother. Fíli lay in the same position Kíli had left him, his eyes closed and his brow furrowed, one hand over his abdomen as always. Kíli knelt beside him and opened his pack on the floor; he took the supplies out of Bella’s basket and shoved them in. Fíli’s pack was as light as he could have made it without overstuffing his own. The only thing Kíli added was a loaf of bread. Then he straightened and shook his slumbering brother’s shoulder gently, but Fíli did not respond. Rolling his eyes, he shook harder. Fíli was the deepest sleeper he had ever seen. Slowly Fíli’s eyes opened, foggy and confused, and he focused on Kíli’s face as best he could. For a moment his eyes widened with alarm, but then they relaxed. Kíli smiled softly.

“It’s time to go,” he said. “Come on. I’ll help you up. We don’t have to go far.”

Fíli grimaced, but he accepted Kíli’s help. Kíli took his brother’s arm and slung it around his shoulders, and Fíli pulled his legs off the couch and grunted as they rose together. Fíli put a hand on Kíli’s chest.

“Stop for a second,” he grunted.

Kíli eyed him, concerned. “What’s the matter?”

“Same as before,” Fíli retorted. “Just give me a moment. It hurts to move.”

“Sorry,” Kíli said sheepishly. He waited quietly, reminding himself of how long Fíli had had to move slowly to allow him to keep up after the incident with the arrow. If Fíli could be patient for him, he could be patient for Fíli.

After about half a minute, Fíli straightened and nodded, and Kíli helped him put on his pack. Much to Kíli’s relief, he said that the weight was fine, and Kíli put on his own pack and returned to his brother’s side. Together they made their way slowly to the front door of the hobbit hole.

Just before they reached the door, a small voice broke the silence.

“Mister Kíli?”

Kíli stopped and looked back to see Lily standing behind him, her hands clasped behind her back and a frown upon her face.

“What is it, Lily?” Kíli said.

“Are you and Mister Fíli leaving forever?” she asked.

Kíli smiled sadly at the small hobbit. “We’re leaving for now,” he said. “Maybe we will come back and visit you. Would you like that?”

Lily nodded vigorously, and Kíli laughed. The little hobbit ran forward and hugged Kíli’s legs tightly, and Kíli laid his free hand upon her curly head. She let go and latched on to Fíli next, who started and looked down at the child with wide eyes. When she did not let go, he gently placed a hand on her head; Kíli looked from Lily to Fíli and grinned at the warm, hesitant smile on his brother’s face.

After a few moments, Lily let go and smiled at the two brothers, her brown eyes sparkling.

“Goodbye!” she said.

“Goodbye, Lily,” said Kíli. Fíli did not look at her again; instead, he began to move towards the door, and Kíli moved with him.

* * *

 

Wherever Eva was, she was late.

“I thought you said she’d be here,” Fíli said.

“She said to wait,” Kíli replied. “Just keep waiting. She’ll come. She said she would.”

“What if she _doesn’t_ , though?” said Fíli uneasily. “We’ll have to walk…”

“Fíli, don’t _worry_ ,” said Kíli. “She’ll come. Just be patient.”

Fíli made an irritated noise in the base of his throat, and Kíli frowned. Even walking this far had almost been too much for his brother; when Kíli had offered to take a look at the wound, Fíli had swatted his hands away and insisted that he was fine. But Kíli could see that the pain was taking its toll. Fíli couldn’t walk any further today. Kíli was fairly sure that he wouldn’t want to, even if asked.

Instead of offering further placations to his irritable brother, Kíli remained silent. Fíli leaned into his back heavily.

Kíli was having enough trouble keeping himself from worrying. They had been waiting for a while now, and still they had seen no sign of Eva. The grass was wet from last night’s rain, and the day was overcast, so the ground remained unpleasantly cool and damp. Having no other place to sit, they had settled down anyway, and Fíli’s demeanor was becoming more and more cross with every moment that he had to be cold and wet and uncomfortable. Every once in a while, he shivered. Kíli prayed that Eva would arrive soon.

Soon enough, the sound of an approaching wagon reached Kíli’s ears, and he straightened, searching for it. Fíli looked around as well.

“Do you hear it?” Kíli said.

“Aye,” said Fíli. “Where is she? Took her long enough…”

“She could have left us to fend for ourselves, Fíli,” Kíli scolded. “Here, let me help you up.” He pulled Fíli from the ground carefully, and they spied the wagon approaching from their left. Kíli pulled Fíli along to meet their accomplice.

“I’m so sorry!” Eva said as soon as she saw them. She stopped her horse and hopped out of the wagon. “Papa kept talking and I couldn’t get away. I had to make up an excuse! But he didn’t see me. Are you—oh, is he all right?”

Kíli looked from Eva to Fíli with raised eyebrows. Fíli was pale and his eyes were half-lidded, but he did not seem to be doing worse than he had in the past hour.

“I’m fine,” Fíli said. “Just get me in the wagon—please.”

Kíli and Eva helped Fíli into the back of the wagon, and Kíli pulled his and Fíli’s blankets out of his pack and laid them both over his brother. Fíli curled up and lay quietly, closing his eyes against the world.

“Stay in the back with him for now,” said Eva. “When we get a few miles away, you can join me in front, if you’d like, but we’ve got to get past the neighbors first.”

“Thank you, Eva,” said Kíli. Eva nodded and ran back to her seat; soon, they were off again. They traveled for a while in silence, and Fíli fell asleep, despite the bumpy ride. When they had gotten past Eva’s neighbors, she called for him, and he joined her at the front of the wagon.

“How is Fíli?” she asked, casting him a sidelong glance.

“I don’t know,” Kíli said. “He seems to be in a lot of pain, but when I ask him what’s wrong, he just says he’s fine.”

“Hm,” said Eva. She was silent for a moment.

“May I ask you a question?” Kíli said.

“Of course.”

“Why did you decide to help us? You could get in trouble with your folks…”

“I could, and I probably will,” Eva said. She sniffed. “At least, with Papa. I think Mama wanted to help you, but she respects Papa’s wishes when it comes to the farm. I think more like my Mama. She always tells me to help people in need, and you’re in need. But don’t think too badly of my Papa. We don’t come from one of the more respectable families, and I know he feels it.”

“I can understand that,” Kíli said.

Eva looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Can you?” she said. “Your clothes seem to be very fine, and you have fine manners—for a dwarf, anyway. You seem well-off.”

“Well…” Kíli said. He wondered how much he should share with this hobbit. What could she do if he gave her more information? She was a hobbit—who would she tell? What danger could there be in telling her? “We are well-off, in some ways—but in others, we’re not at all.”

“I don’t understand.”

“My uncle is—well, he’s the leader of our people,” said Kíli. “He’s done well by the dwarves of the Blue Mountains, so we have plenty, but I know he wants more for us.”

“More?”

“He’s supposed to be a king,” Kíli said. “A rightful king. But our kingdom has been taken from us. It happened before Fíli and I were born, so this is the only life we know, but I can see the desire in my uncle’s eyes—and even in my mother’s. She was only ten when Erebor was sacked.”

“Erebor?” Eva cried out suddenly. She turned to look at him with wide eyes. Kíli blinked.

“You know about Erebor?” he said, surprised.

“I know that a dragon lives inside of it,” Eva said. “I’ve heard a story or two. Even hobbits hear those tales sometimes.”

“Well, that’s my uncle’s kingdom,” Kíli said. “Or—our kingdom. If we can ever reclaim it.” He looked back at Fíli. “Fíli’s next in line to be king.”

Eva’s eyes grew even larger, and she looked back to the slumbering dwarf in the back of the wagon. A sly grin, uncannily like her mother’s, grew on her face.

“What?” Kíli demanded.

“I wonder what Papa would think if he knew he kicked out a pair of princes,” Eva said.

Kíli chuckled. “I have a feeling he’d treat us the same.”

“You may be right about that.”

Kíli and Eva chatted easily for the next few hours as they made their way south towards the Brandywine Bridge. They reached the town of Scary by a little after midday and stopped at a small inn for lunch; Fíli opted to stay in the wagon, saying that if he didn’t have to move, he would rather stay put. Eva and Kíli brought him a meal, but he would only eat a little. Kíli was concerned, but Fíli waved him off.

“I’m just not hungry,” he said. “Leave it here. I’ll eat it later.”

Kíli let it drop, but he noted that Fíli seemed paler than before.

They quickly got back on the road again, Kíli taking his place once again at Eva’s side. As far as he could tell, Fíli remained awake but stayed silent; every once in a while, he peeked back to check on his elder brother, and he always looked the same—lying still with one hand over his stomach. Kíli had no gauge for how much pain Fíli should or should not have been in and therefore nothing to go on but his brother’s word that he was fine, and he was not sure that he believed him. He knew that Fíli had been unnaturally quiet ever since the incident at the creek, but even this silence seemed too much.

“How much longer to the Brandywine Bridge?” Kíli asked Eva.

“A while,” said Eva. “We should make it before sunset.”

“How are you going to make it back home before dark?” said Kíli.

Eva pursed her lips. “Don’t worry about that,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”

“Your parents will be worried,” Kíli pressed.

“How long have _you_ been away from home?” Eva retorted. “I don’t see you rushing to get back.”

Kíli looked down. “That’s different,” he said. “I can’t go back. Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“The way we left… my uncle probably thinks I’m a traitor,” Kíli said. “I can’t go back. Not until I’ve fixed the mess I’ve started.”

Eva eyed him curiously. “What mess?” she said.

“He means me,” Fíli said.

Kíli started at the sound of his brother’s voice and looked behind him. Fíli was still lying down, but his eyes were open, and they looked up at Kíli with a strange, unidentifiable look. He wanted to negate Fíli’s comment, but he could not come up with a correction.

“Well, I’m right, aren’t I?” Fíli said.

“I…” Kíli said, but he faltered. Fíli _was_ right, in a way, but he would not have him thinking that all he was was a problem. “You can get past this, Fíli. I know you can.”

“You don’t know that,” Fíli muttered.

Kíli fell silent and looked straight ahead, the corners of his mouth pulling down involuntarily. Eva cast a glance in his direction, but she said nothing, and Kíli was grateful. He didn’t feel like talking anymore.


	25. The Old Forest

The closer the wagon got to the Brandywine Bridge, the more distressed Eva seemed to be. Kíli watched her closely as they chatted, wondering what was on her mind.

"Are you sure you're all right with this?" he asked finally.

Eva cast a distracted glance in his direction. "Oh, yes," she said. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

Kíli nodded and remained silent. The hobbit sitting beside him was young—much younger than himself. How old had Bella said she was? Twenty-two? Twenty-three? For a dwarf, that was practically still a child, but he knew that hobbits did not live as long. Perhaps for her own kind, she was more mature than he thought. But still…

"Aren't you worried about what your parents will think?" he said.

Eva smiled. "I know it's dangerous outside the borders of the Shire, Kíli, but here, we don't even lock our doors at night. If I'm gone too long, they'll be upset, but they won't fear too much for my safety."

Kíli blinked. This concept was so foreign to him—his own mother worried over him when they were gone for a few hours, even though both he and Fíli were highly-trained fighters. Things were different in the Shire, he supposed. He couldn't imagine not locking his door at night.

It took a few more hours, but they finally reached the Brandywine Bridge. Eva pulled the wagon to a stop and looked at Kíli.

"This is where I stop," she said. Kíli and Eva exchanged glances, and Kíli nodded. He stepped down out of the wagon.

"Fíli, we're here," he said. He climbed into the back of the wagon and shook Fíli's shoulder, but Fíli did not respond; he shook his shoulder again, but still Fíli remained asleep.

"Fíli!" he called, shaking harder. Fíli's eyes opened slowly, the blue irises barely visible beneath his eyelids.

"What?" he said grumpily.

"We're here," he said. "We've reached the bridge. Come on—we have to go on foot from here."

A look of panic crossed Fíli's face then, and Kíli's heart dropped. He knew that Fíli would not want to walk, but he could ask no more of the young hobbit that had helped them this far. He had no right to. Had Fíli not been in so much pain, he never would have accepted her help in the first place; going against his own guardians' word was one thing, but encouraging a young hobbit to do the same was something completely different.

"Come on," he said. "I'll help you."

Slowly, Kíli pulled Fíli out of the wagon. They moved carefully and Fíli kept one hand over his wound, his face set in a seemingly permanent grimace. He grunted as Kíli pulled him towards the edge of the wagon.

Eva watched the two of them with a strange look in her eye, which seemed to agitate Fíli even further. He cast a glare in her direction, and she blinked rapidly and opened her mouth to speak.

"Wait."

Fíli and Kíli stopped and looked at the hobbit. She swallowed and looked around warily before speaking again.

"Don't get out," she said. "I'll take you to the Old Forest."

"Eva, no," Kíli said, ignoring the elbow to his ribs from his brother. "I can't ask you to do any more for us. You're going to get in trouble."

"Kíli," Fíli ground out quietly.

"I don't care," Eva said. "Please—let me take you farther. If I can just get you to the border of the Old Forest, I'll feel much better about this."

"Kíli, please," Fíli whimpered. He caught his brother's sleeve and tugged, and Kíli turned to look at him. His eyes were wide and pleading. Kíli didn't need any further persuasion.

"Thank you, Eva," he said. "Thank you so much."

"Let's get a move on," said Eva. "We've still got a few hours ahead of us if we're going to make it there by sunset."

Kíli helped Fíli back to his spot in the back of the wagon, and instantly the elder dwarf curled into himself and closed his eyes. Kíli eyed him worriedly.

"Is it worse?" he said.

"It just hurts," Fíli replied, keeping his eyes closed. "I'm fine. I'll be fine."

"Maybe I should just—"

"No," Fíli interrupted. "Just leave me be."

Kíli twisted his mouth and stared at his brother, but Fíli remained curled up. He turned his head and his hair fell over his face. With a sigh, Kíli pulled the blankets out of his pack again and laid them over his brother, who pulled them up to his chin and lay quietly. Kíli took his place again at Eva's side.

"Thank you again," he said.

"I can't make him walk if I can take you farther," Eva said quietly. "Aren't you worried for him? He won't let you look at his wound…"

"He's always been like that, though," Kíli said. "He never makes a fuss about being hurt. It's just the way he is."

"Still, doesn't it worry you?" she said.

"Aye, but he doesn't trust me right now. I can only do so much."

"If I were you, I'd do whatever I needed to anyway," Eva sniffed.

"I—I can't, Eva," Kíli said. "You don't understand. He's being remarkably cooperative right now. What he's been like…"

"Which you won't  _tell_  me," Eva retorted.

Kíli looked straight ahead and sighed. He didn't want to relive the past couple of weeks. However much Eva wanted to know, he just wasn't willing to share. He shook his head.

"I just can't," he said. "I'm sorry. I don't want to talk about it."

"All right, never mind," said Eva. "I'm sorry for prying."

Kíli said nothing in reply. He kept peering out at the road ahead; they had crossed the bridge, and now they were finally on the Great East Road.

"Shouldn't we be heading towards Buckland?" Kíli said. He was familiar with this road; it led to Bree, not to Buckland. They should have turned south and gone through the North Gate.

"Not if you're going to the Old Forest," said Eva. "There's a hedge all around Buckland to the east, and I don't know where you can get through it. Better to just go around it."

Kíli had heard of this hedge—or the High Hay, as the Bucklanders called it. They had built it to keep out the Old Forest, though Kíli did not understand why they would need to keep out a forest at all. They were just trees, after all—what could they do? But hobbits were not dwarves, and whatever their reasoning was, he was sure it made sense to them.

After a while it began to rain again—a soft, warm rain, unlike the torrential downpour from the day before. Still, the moisture clung to his skin and his clothes and left him feeling damp and uncomfortableand Eva's curls clung to her forehead. He heard Fíli groaning from the back, but when he asked what was wrong, Fíli simply told him to leave him alone. Eventually they veered right off the Road and started to go through the country. The grass was tall and unkempt, but the land was beautiful, even enchanting, in the mist. Flowers grew high in patches here and there, and their vivid colors brightened the otherwise grey landscape. Kíli watched them distractedly, trying not to think about the road ahead.

The rain continued for the next several hours, even when they stopped to eat in the back of the wagon. Fíli actually sat up and ate with them; it seemed that the day's rest had done him some good, though he still looked pale and would not let Kíli touch him. After their supper, they set off again, and the Old Forest finally came into view. Even from a distance it seemed dark and foreboding; though Kíli could not see anyone, he felt as if someone was watching him from afar, waiting for him. He tried to shake the feeling off, but it remained. Eva looked even more nervous than he felt.

"Are you all right?" he whispered. He wasn't sure why he was whispering, but he felt as if he should.

"I'll be fine," Eva whispered back, though her voice was higher than usual. Her brown eyes looked ready to fall out of her head, but she sat up straight and set her mouth in a grim line. Kíli could tell she was determined to go on, so he did not press her further. The two of them were silent; an oppressive gloom hung over them, only growing stronger as they approached the forest. The awful feeling of being watched grew stronger, and Kíli was reminded of a cave, a dark, wet cave—

"Stop," he gasped suddenly.

Eva stopped the wagon immediately and turned to look at her friend. Kíli buried his face in his hands and took a deep, shaky breath.

"Kíli?"

Kíli did not respond. He knew the feeling that was coming, and he did not welcome it. The fear that he thought he had left behind was coming at him full force. How was he supposed to go through this forest? How was Fíli supposed to go through this?

"Fíli," he said, whirling around and looking at his brother. Fíli was sound asleep, but his brow was creased in a frown. Kíli jumped into the back.

"Kíli!" Eva called, but he paid her no mind. He sat beside Fíli and watched him carefully, but he did not touch him. He was afraid of what would happen if he did. If he was feeling like this, he could only imagine what Fíli would feel when he awoke.

"He's fine," he whispered to himself. "He's fine. I'm fine. We're fine."

"What's going on?" Eva said.

"It's—you wouldn't understand," Kíli said. "Something—something happened to us. This place…"

"Reminds you of it?"

Kíli nodded and swallowed. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and shook his head. He would be fine. He could do this.

"Sorry," he said to Eva, climbing back into the front. "I'm all right. I'll… I'll be fine."

Eva eyed him warily, but she did not protest. Instead, she started them off again, and the forest loomed closer.

Kíli forced himself to stare at the trees before him. Some were straight and tall; some were short and gnarled. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to them. Moss grew on the trunks and branches, hanging down like long, ghostly fingers. Kíli shuddered, thinking of one of those touching him. He covered his face with his hands. Something was watching him.

"It's strange, isn't it?" Eva whispered. "You can feel it…"

"Aye, you can," Kíli said hoarsely. He forced himself to look up again. He would overcome this—he had to. Eva said nothing more, and neither did he, and Fíli remained asleep in the back. Kíli would let him sleep until the last possible moment.

Eva suddenly stopped the wagon, and Kíli turned his gaze to her questioningly. She was watching him with a critical eye.

"Kíli, what's the matter?" she said. It sounded like a question, but Kíli knew it was a demand. He had heard that tone plenty of times from his mother. Still, this hobbit was not his mother, and he had no obligation to answer her.

"I'll be fine," he said. "Keep going. I'll be fine."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Eva pressed.

Kíli shook his head. "Not unless you can change the past," he said. "We have to do this. I've made it this far—this is the only hope I've got. I have to keep going."

"We can turn around, Kíli," said Eva. "You don't have to—"

"No!" said Kíli vehemently. "I've been through so much to get this far, and I won't turn back now."

"What is so  _important_  about this forest?" Eva demanded. Her high, clear voice cut through the dense air like a knife.

"I need  _Fíli_  back!" Kíli said. "This—this  _shell_  of a dwarf—this isn't my brother! He's been caught up in some nightmare—he doesn't know who he is, he doesn't know who  _I_  am—and no one knew what to do! I was the only one who knew what to do! I was the only one who knew something was wrong!" He could feel his hands shaking;  _Stop_ , he told himself, but the gloom before him was addling his mind, and he did not listen to his own admonishment. "I was the only one who  _tried_  anything! My uncle didn't know what to do—my mother couldn't do anything—they didn't even know where to  _start_! At least I'm out here! I don't care if it kills me. I won't give up on him. I won't!"

Kíli looked at Eva; she was staring at him with wide eyes and leaning away from him, as if she expected him to strike her. He looked down at his shaking hands and clenched them into fists, squeezing his eyes shut.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "It's not your fault. It's just been hard, is all."

"I'm sorry I asked," Eva replied. She set the wagon in motion again, and Kíli bowed his head, letting his hair fall over his face.

* * *

"We're here."

Kíli looked up at the forest looming before him. The sun had set, but with the clouds above and the forest ahead, it felt like the darkest night Kíli had ever seen. He took a deep breath. He had mastered himself a while before. He could do this. Fíli could do this. They didn't have another choice.

"Thank you, Eva," he said.

"You're welcome," said Eva. She looked uncomfortable in the shadow of the trees, and Kíli laid a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry for the trouble I've caused you," he said. "I hope your family won't be too upset with you."

"I'm more worried about you," Eva said, still watching the trees warily. "I've never heard anything good about this forest."

"I'm a trained fighter—I'll be all right," Kíli said. "Don't worry about me."

"And your brother?"

"I'll keep him safe."

Eva looked from Kíli to Fíli, who was still asleep in the back of the wagon. She bit her lip.

"I wish I could help you more," she said. "But I can't—I can't go in there."

"And I'm not asking you to," said Kíli. "I wouldn't ask you to. I wouldn't let you, even if you insisted."

Eva smiled warmly at her new friend. "Promise me one thing, though," she said. "If you manage to accomplish what you've come here for—please come back to the Shire. I would like to know that you and Fíli are all right, and I know that my mother would, too."

"I don't think your father would approve," said Kíli with a grin.

"Well, I'd rather know you were safe," said Eva. "Please promise me."

"I promise," Kíli said, taking her hand. She smiled and nodded.

"Thank you," she said. "Now, you'd better get going. I have to get back eventually."

Kíli felt a nervous lurch inside at the thought of going into this forest on foot. He wished dearly that they still had the ponies, but that couldn't be helped now. He hopped off the wagon and searched the bare ground for fallen branches that could be used as a walking stick. A few yards into the forest he found one, thick and sturdy, but still attached to a fallen tree. He set a foot on the trunk and yanked the branch free; a shudder seemed to go through the trees around him. He cowered for a moment, looking up into the foliage with nervous eyes. Stories from his childhood and his books started filtering into his mind—tales of trees that could feel, talk, even move. They were never fond of dwarves. He ran back to the wagon.

"Is he still asleep?" he said.

"I think so," said Eva. "He hasn't moved."

Kíli broke the thin end off the branch in his hand and tested it against his weight—sturdy enough. It would hold Fíli. He climbed into the back of the wagon and shook his brother's shoulder. For once, Fíli jumped awake. He looked up at Kíli with wide eyes.

"We're here," he said. "I got you a walking stick."

Fíli grimaced but offered no protest as Kíli helped him out of the wagon. He took the walking stick and leaned upon it heavily; Kíli stayed beside him, making sure he did not fall. Fíli looked up at the gnarled trees before him and immediately shrank back.

"No, no, no," he whimpered, pressing into his brother. Kíli took hold of his elbows and squeezed reassuringly, but Fíli only shook his head and took another step back.

"It'll be all right, Fíli," he whispered in his brother's ear. "It's not what you're thinking. This is  _not_  the same."

"It  _feels_  the same," Fíli hissed. Kíli held onto him tightly.

"It isn't," he said firmly. "Listen to me, Fíli. It's  _not the same_. You will be all right."

"I don't want to do this anymore," Fíli said. "I don't—I can't do it…"

"Fíli, we've made it this far," he said. "Where are you going to go?"

"I—I don't know," Fíli said. "Somewhere—anywhere but here—"

"Come  _on_ , Fíli," Kíli said. "You said you would come with me here. All the way. Then, once we're done, you can go wherever you wish to go."

"I didn't know it would be like  _this_!" Fíli argued. He tried to pull away from Kíli's grip, but Kíli turned him around to face him and held on. Fíli grunted.

"Let me  _go_ ," he said.

"Please, Fíli, just a bit farther," Kíli begged. "I will  _not_  let anything harm you. You have my word."

Fíli stopped struggling for a moment and looked into Kíli's eyes. The unnatural darkness that had been ever-present in his gaze was still there, piercing into Kíli painfully. But beyond that, there was a glimmer of trust that Kíli had not seen in what felt like forever, warring with the darkness; the struggle was clear in Fíli's face.

"Fíli," he breathed. "Please."

Fíli blinked, staring into his brother's face; after a long silence, he nodded slowly.

"All right," he said. "I'll go."

Kíli grinned broadly and almost hugged his brother, but when he moved forward, Fíli jumped back. Kíli stopped himself and his grin faded. The flame of joy that had been growing flickered a bit, but it did not go out. He helped Fíli put on his pack and then put on his own; then he turned to Eva, still sitting atop the wagon.

"Thank you, Eva," he said. "I don't think I can ever thank you enough for your kindness."

"You can return me in kind by letting me know you made it all right," Eva said with a smile. She looked around nervously at the creaking trees. "Now go. I'll see you again."

"Until next time," Kíli said. With that, Eva turned her wagon around and headed back the way she came. Kíli hoped her travels would be safe and easy—this close to the Shire, she was sure to be fine, but he still felt guilty for leaving a young hobbit, not even an adult, to travel through the night on her own.

"All right, Fíli," he said, turning back to the Old Forest. "Let's get this over with."

* * *

Kíli knew that they were probably going slowly with Fíli, but he honestly had no idea what speed they were going at all. They simply walked, going whichever way the path led—if it was a path. Kíli had a sneaking suspicion that they were being led somehow. That feeling of being watched was ever on him, but no matter where he looked, there was nothing to see. Slowly he began to realize that maybe, just maybe, it was the trees themselves that were watching.

Fíli was not faring well. He had rested all day, and at first he had seemed to be doing better, but his energy had faded quickly. Now he trudged along behind, pale and even sweating. Kíli stopped many times to make sure he was all right, but each time, Fíli waved him off, saying that it was just soreness—he was fine. Kíli didn't want to fight, so he let him be. They would stop soon to sleep, anyway. Kíli would insist on checking on him then. It was late, but even Fíli had wanted to press on as long as possible. They both wanted to be out of this wood.

The rain had passed and the clouds had rolled away; the full moon shone through spaces in the foliage, but its illumination seemed strange and weak. They could see the path, but still it seemed to be drenched in darkness, as if a veil hung over their eyes. More than once Kíli waved a hand before his face, trying to push it away.

"I wish I could sing in this place," Kíli murmured. He stepped out of the way of a branch that had suddenly appeared in his path.

"Why don't you?" said Fíli.

"I don't know," Kíli replied. "I just feel like it would make them angry."

"Who?"

Kíli looked up anxiously. "The trees," he whispered. The leaves rustled in reply, and both dwarves stopped and looked around. The branches above them creaked and groaned; Kíli took hold of Fíli's arm, and Fíli stepped closer to him. Kíli backed into a tree that he was sure was not behind him a moment before.

"Oi! Stop that!" he called out. His voice seemed thin in the close air. "We're not going to hurt you!"

The shadows of the trees seemed to close in even more at Kíli's outburst, and Fíli shrank back, nearly stumbling over himself; Kíli caught him and held him upright, but Fíli was shaking and his eyes were shut tight.

"Go away, go away, go away," Fíli whispered fervently. The trees only loomed ominously in response.

"Come on, Fíli," Kíli said, tugging at his brother's arm. "Let's keep going. I think we should keep moving."

Fíli moaned and lurched forward, catching himself with his walking stick before he fell. Kíli reached out a hand to steady him, but he drew it back when Fíli cast a glare in his direction.

"I'm fine," he said.

There did seem to be an established path through the forest, but where it went, Kíli could not tell. All he knew was that they were moving steadily downhill. Water dripped slowly from the trees, landing more often than was natural on Fíli and Kíli's faces; roots seemed to appear before their feet suddenly, though neither dwarf saw them move, and branches whipped their faces on more than one occasion.

 _This forest does not want us here,_  Kíli thought. He had believed in fairy tales from a young age, but living trees had always seemed a bit outrageous, even to him; living in the mountains, there had been plenty of trees, but they had never seemed as  _alive_  as the ones here. These trees had invisible eyes, invisible ears, invisible mouths that whispered to each other— _They're here, get them out, get them out._  Or maybe  _keep them in, keep them in forever_. Kíli didn't know how trees talked—he was a dwarf, after all. One that loved the outdoors more than most of his kind, but a dwarf nonetheless.

They passed the time in silence, their pace becoming slower and slower as Fíli struggled to keep up. Kíli kept himself a few steps ahead, but he checked back every minute or so to make sure Fíli wasn't too far behind.

"Do you want to stop?" Kíli called.

"No," Fíli rasped. "I don't want to sit still. I slept all day. Let's keep going."

Kíli stopped and turned around, looking over his brother worriedly. He was sweating visibly and his face glowed white in the gloaming. Still he struggled on, but Kíli did not move.

"Fíli, we need to rest for the night," he said. "Please."

"Keep going," Fíli grunted. "I'm not stopping in this place."

"Fíli!" Kíli said forcefully. "You need to stop."

"No!" Fíli shot back.

Kíli threw his hands in the air, exasperated. If Fíli was so determined, he wasn't going to be able to stop him—not without physically forcing him to lie down. He was not going to break the fragile trust he had finally begun to rebuild over this.

"Fine," he said. "But only for a little while. Then we're stopping."

Fíli said nothing; he simply carried on walking. Kíli, tired of walking slowly, scouted ahead a bit. The winding path had carried them to what seemed to be the heart of the forest, and Kíli was sure that he could hear flowing water in the distance, breaking the silence ever so slightly. He jogged back the path to where Fíli trudged along, leaning heavily on his walking stick.

"I think there's water nearby," Kíli said. "If we can make it there, will you rest?"

Fíli made a noncommittal grunt, and Kíli rolled his eyes. People always called him the stubborn one, but Fíli was just as bad, in his opinion. He turned and was about to start off again when he heard a  _thud_  behind him.

Instantly Kíli whirled around, searching for the source of the sound; a rush of blood roared in his ears and his vision blurred as he caught sight of Fíli collapsed on the ground.

"Fíli!" he cried, running back to his brother and dropping to his knees. Fíli lay face down, shivering violently, and Kíli rolled him over onto his back. Fíli moaned but did not fight him; his half-lidded eyes roamed aimlessly and then fluttered shut. Kíli gently patted his face.

"Fíli, Fíli, stay with me," he said anxiously. Fíli stirred but did not open his eyes, and Kíli took a deep, shaky breath. Trust be damned—he was going to check on that wound whether Fíli liked it or not. He dropped his pack and tugged at Fíli's shirt, revealing the stained bandages underneath, and then unwound the bandages as quickly as he could. Beneath the cloths was a festering mess of infection, oozing and red, and Kíli cursed loudly.

"Fíli, why wouldn't you tell me?" he said. "Why would you— _Mahal_ , Fíli, why would you keep this from me? We could have stopped! We  _should_  have stopped!"

"Wanted to… keep going," Fíli mumbled quietly. Kíli ran a hand through his hair and stared at the wound in panic. He didn't know how to deal with this. He was not in the place to deal with this—but if he didn't get help, Fíli's life was in immediate danger.

"Fíli, stay awake, all right?" he said. "Whatever you do, stay awake. You are  _not_  allowed to die on me, do you hear? You'll be fine."

Fíli did not speak, but his eyelids fluttered open again, and Kíli breathed a sigh of relief. But as soon as they had opened, they closed again.

" _No!_ " Kíli cried, patting Fíli's face again, but Fíli did not respond. A boiling fear and frustration rose from his gut, and he bent over his brother's body and touched his forehead to Fíli's chest. A scream emerged from his throat before he could quell it, and once it started, he could not keep it back. When he stopped, the air felt different, as if his scream had rent through some kind of spell. He took hold of Fíli's shoulders and shook him violently.

"Please, please, no," he sobbed. "Please wake up, please get better, I don't know what to do, Fíli, I need you—please—I can't do this, I'm not you,  _I don't know what to do_!"

Fíli remained quiet and still despite Kíli's pleadings, and Kíli let out a wail of anguish. This infection was too much for him. He didn't know how to fix it—if someone didn't come along soon, Fíli was going to die.

 _No_ , Kíli told himself.  _I can't let that happen. I will_ not _lose him._

"Help!" he screamed, ignoring the hostile silent whisperings of the trees nearby. He didn't care about them. Let them be angry and foreboding—he had Fíli to worry about. "Help! Someone! Anyone, please!"

The oppressive silence took over once more as Kíli fell silent; even Kíli's panting seemed distant and muffled. He looked about wildly, praying for someone to find him.

" _Help!_ " he shouted, pushing every bit of strength within him into his cry. Tears rolled down his face as he looked about desperately, but there came no reply. Why would there be a reply? People didn't live in the Old Forest—except this  _useless_  enigma of a man named Tom Bombadil, apparently. Kíli cursed himself for being such a fool. He dragged his frightened and confused brother all the way here with no plan, no clue as to where this mysterious figure would be at all. He had betrayed his family and gotten his own brother injured and possibly killed.

 _Selfish,_  his mind told him.  _Selfish, selfish, selfish. This wasn't for Fíli. This was never for Fíli. This was all for you._

Kíli could not argue against the voice in his head. He had been reckless. He was  _always_  reckless. No matter how many times someone reprimanded him, told him to  _think_ , he never thought enough.  _Now look what you've done._  The ramifications were far too dire this time.

"I'm sorry, Fíli," he said, pressing his hand to Fíli's chest. "I'm sorry I'm such a rubbish brother, I'm sorry I've brought this upon you—"

Suddenly he stopped as a strange sound reached his ears. As it came closer, it seemed as if the air itself cleared; suddenly the trees didn't seem to loom over him and Fíli so much, and the moonlight seemed to become brighter. Someone was coming, and he was singing; the words became clear, and Kíli stood, searching for the source of the nonsense song he recognized—he had heard it before on Bofur's lips.

It was the song of Tom Bombadil.


	26. Awakening

Whatever Kíli had expected Tom Bombadil to be like, it was not what he saw before him. As the singing figure approached, his features became clear; he was taller than a dwarf, but not by too much, and certainly did not appear to be one himself, even with his long, thick brown beard. His face was ruddy, the bright red of his cheeks visible even in the darkness of night, and his eyes glinted blue with joy in the light of the moon, youthful and yet old, cheerful and yet wise. His bright yellow boots and blue jacket shone brightly, somehow brightening everything around him without increasing the light; for a moment, Kíli wondered how he could have thought the Old Forest was a dark place at all.

"T-Tom Bombadil?" he said shakily. Tom laughed.

"Two dwarves in the Old Forest, a sight indeed! A sight indeed," he said. "Come, then, I've called Buttercup along. There's trouble here of all sorts, and Goldberry is waiting."

Kíli merely blinked. Buttercup? Goldberry? What was this strange character carrying on about? Had he come all this way just to find that his hopes were laid in someone completely insane?

Tom laughed again at the sight of Kíli's face and stepped closer; Kíli marveled at how his very presence seemed to make the atmosphere around him more wholesome. He turned his gaze to Fíli, still unconscious on the ground.

"He's sick—please, you have to help him," he said.

A twinkle shone in Tom's eye. "Haven't you been listening to old Tom?" he said. "Buttercup is on the way. Your brother will be safe tonight."

"Who is Buttercup?" Kíli asked. Tom did not answer; instead, he knelt beside Fíli and Kíli and looked into Fíli's face.

"There's much at work in this one," he murmured. Kíli watched him curiously as he smiled and took Fíli's hand. The blond dwarf did not stir.

"Ah! Here comes Buttercup," Tom said, turning and rising. Kíli looked into the forest, searching for what Tom saw; he spotted a sturdy-looking pony coming up the path.

"Did you know we were coming?" Kíli said incredulously.

Once again, Tom did not answer. He greeted the pony cheerfully.

"You've got a burden to carry, my friend!" he said to the pony.

"Is Goldberry a pony, too?" Kíli asked, looking down the path.

Tom laughed uproariously, stopping to slap his hands on his knees. Kíli watched him blankly. What had he said this time? This was the strangest person he had ever seen in his entire life. Bofur and Glóin had failed to warn him about this.

"You'll meet my Goldberry soon enough," Tom said when he had finished laughing. "She is the River-daughter and my heart. Come; help me lift your brother! Do not fear—Buttercup will not let him fall."

Speechless, Kíli helped Tom lift Fíli onto Buttercup's back; the pony seemed to know his own way without being led, and sure enough, he walked steadily, and Fíli stayed firmly upon his back. Tom sang as they walked, and Kíli stumbled along behind, his mind buzzing with all sorts of questions. How had Tom known they were coming? How had he known that Fíli and Kíli were brothers? It wasn't as if they looked much alike. He saved his questions for later, though, instead listening to the nonsense songs that came easily from Tom's lips and pushed back the darkness; it seemed to him that not only did they push back the gloom of the forest around him, but they also lifted a dark burden Kíli had not realized he was still carrying inside himself. His steps seemed lighter and easier than they had been in a while, and even in the midst of despair, he felt a glimmer of hope inside him.

The walk seemed quick, now that he did not have to wait upon Fíli's slow steps, and they soon reached a river running through the trees. Mist rose from its bubbling waters, shrouding the ground at Kíli's feet, but with Tom taking the lead, he did not fear for his footing. They walked along the river for a while; then, suddenly, they stepped out from the trees into a clearing in the middle of the wood. The grass was green and well-kept, and the ground steadily rose along a stone path to a house at the top of the hill. The moon shone down upon the clearing merrily, and golden light flowed from the windows of the house.

"Welcome to the home of Tom Bombadil and his Goldberry!" said Tom. "You will rest here tonight. Do not fear the darkness!"

Kíli smiled at the welcoming sight of Tom's house and hurried along, keeping close to Buttercup and Fíli. The pony stopped at the front door of the house, which opened suddenly; a tall woman clad in green stood against the warm light, and for a moment, Kíli stopped and simply stared at her. So this was Goldberry—Tom's wife. Kíli understood what Bofur had said about her now; though she bore no resemblance to the dwarven women he was accustomed to, she was indeed beautiful. Her long golden hair flowed down her shoulders softly, and her eyes sparkled with delight.

"My Goldberry!" Tom called. He leapt ahead of the pony and took his wife's hand and kissed it; she laughed, and the sound was like the sound of water rippling over smooth stones.

"I have prepared beds for our guests," she said. Kíli felt a strange delight at hearing her voice.

"Come, my friend, let us bring in your brother," said Tom. Kíli snapped back to the present and took Fíli's pack from his back; then he helped Tom lift and carry the still-unconscious Fíli inside. They followed Goldberry down a hall and around a corner to a room with two beds prepared—they were little more than mattresses laid on the ground with blankets and pillows, but they looked like the most welcoming beds Kíli had ever seen. Together Tom and Kíli laid Fíli down on the bed in the corner. Kíli wondered again how Tom had known they were coming, but his host's voice cut through his thoughts.

"Stay here, young master Kíli," he said.

Kíli blinked. He did not recall mentioning his name. "How did you—"

"Old Tom knows many things," Tom interrupted with a hearty laugh. "Stay here, and I will return." Without further explanation, he left the room, and Kíli stood at Fíli's bedside awkwardly, shuffling his feet. He looked up at the beautiful Goldberry, who was looking down at Fíli, her smile gone.

"He has been through much," she said sadly. Her eyes moved from Fíli to Kíli; the young dwarf swallowed as he met her gaze. The color of her eyes seemed to shimmer and shift like the surface of the water, and he could not pin down their color, be it a pale blue or a soft grey or a bright green. He felt as if he were looking at something somehow very young and very old at the same time.

"As have you," she said. "But have no fear! You are in the house of Tom Bombadil tonight. You will be safe here."

Kíli opened his mouth to speak, but the singing of Tom Bombadil reached his ears, and he turned to look towards the door. Tom skipped in with a sack in his hand and set it down beside the mattress that held Fíli.

"Let us take care of the dire matters first," he said. His eyes still glittered, but his mouth was set in a grim line. "Master Kíli, you will need to keep him still for me."

Kíli swallowed and looked down at his brother. "Keep him still?"

"Tom and Goldberry will make sure your brother is well, but we do not have time on our side," said Tom gravely. "We must hurry."

Kíli nodded, though he feared what Tom meant, and knelt down beside Fíli's unconscious form. He took hold of Fíli's hands and crossed them on his chest; instantly he was reminded of the time just a couple short weeks ago when he had done this to keep Fíli from hurting himself as he screamed in the throes of nightmares from which he could not wake. It felt like an eternity had passed since then. He took a shaky breath. So much had happened in such a short time.

"Hold him tightly," said Goldberry softly. Kíli turned to see what the two were doing only to see Tom holding a knife above Fíli's stomach, and he let out an involuntary shout.

"What are you  _doing_?" he cried.

"There is infection sealed inside," Goldberry replied. "Do not fear. Tom Bombadil knows how to heal all hurts. He has been on this earth for a long time."

Kíli wanted to protest, but he stopped himself. Bofur and Glóin had both said only good things about Tom, and he knew personally that sometimes, painful things had to be done. He felt a dull ache of memory in his left side where he had been cut open himself many years ago and squeezed his eyes shut, turning back to face his brother. He held on tight.

"All right," he said, and his voice cracked. "Do what you have to."

There was silence behind him, and he dared not look; instead, he opened his eyes and focused on Fíli's face, praying that Fíli was deep enough under not to feel the knife about to be pushed into his abdomen. He heard a small  _pop_  and grimaced.

Then Fíli opened his eyes.

A cold wash of horror flowed down from Kíli's head to his chest, and he tightened his grip on his brother's hands. A startled gasp left Fíli's lips as his eyes met his brother's, and the chill of horror grew colder in Kíli's heart as Fíli began to scream.

" _Traitor!_ " he cried, pushing against Kíli's hard grip, but he was too weak to win against Kíli's strength. He shouted out wildly in pain and looked beyond Kíli to his stomach. Kíli leaned forward, blocking Fíli's view of whatever was happening below.

"You said you wouldn't hurt me!" Fíli wailed. "Traitor, you  _traitor_ —you  _lied_ , you said you would keep me safe—"

"Fíli, it's all right!" Kíli cried, feeling the sting of his brother's words deep in his chest. A lump formed in his throat and he could not swallow it. "They're helping you—they're saving you—don't fight!"

"You  _betrayed_  me!" Fíli screamed again, still struggling wildly against Kíli's grip. Kíli leaned his weight into his brother's chest to keep him still. "You promised—you said I could trust you—why would you do this?" He cried out again. " _Why?_ "

"Can't you put him out or something?" Kíli sobbed. "Please, he's been through so much pain already… please…"

Almost before he had finished speaking, Goldberry was pushing a spoonful of something into Fíli's mouth. Before he could spit it out, she tilted his chin up, keeping his mouth shut, and though Fíli struggled, he could not stop himself from swallowing whatever medicine she had given him. Then he let out a hoarse sob and turned his gaze back to Kíli.

"Why?" he pleaded. He gritted his teeth as Tom did something behind Kíli, but Fíli's eyes were fixed on his brother. They shone darkly with fear and betrayal, and Kíli simply shook his head, incapable of speech as he cried. He pressed his lips together, but still the tears came; he blinked them away and watched Fíli's lids grow heavier.

"You said… you said…" he whimpered, his voice getting weaker. "I don't… I don't  _understand_ … I don't understand…"

Fíli's eyes closed finally, and Kíli loosened his grip and moved unkempt blond hair out of his brother's face.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered through the painful lump that remained in his throat. "I'm sorry, Fíli… I'm sorry for everything… this is all my fault. I never should have done… so many things. I'm so sorry." A drop fell from his cheek onto Fíli's and slid down into his hair, and Kíli let out a tearful gasp.  _Selfish, selfish, selfish_ , his mind said at him.  _Look at all you've done. Look at what your selfishness has done to others. Look what you have done to Fíli._

A pale, slender hand came to rest over Kíli's, and the young dwarf looked up into Goldberry's face. She smiled.

"Do not allow guilt to take over your heart," she said. "I will tend to your brother. Go with my husband for now. There is plenty to eat."

Kíli nodded and stood, though he did not know why. He wanted to stay at Fíli's side, but there was something in this woman's voice that made him want to do as she said. He looked back to Tom, who had just finished cleaning his hands in a basin of steaming water. A bloodied cloth sat next to the bowl. Kíli swallowed and wiped at his wet face with his hands, trying to control his breathing. He hiccupped.

"Don't fret, Master Kíli!" he said, his face as cheerful as ever. "The worst has been avoided. Come and wash up, and then we shall eat bread and butter and honeycomb and all sorts of tasty things that my pretty lady has prepared. Come, come!"

Kíli walked as if in a dream; everything seemed bright and yet far away. He found himself sitting at a table, eating from a table laden for many more than just him and Tom Bombadil. Tom sang and hummed cheerfully as he ate and told Kíli stories of living trees and friendly animals and all sorts of people who had passed through his home. Kíli barely listened, though the warmth and cheer of Tom's words spoke to his heart and mind, and by the end of his meal, he felt refreshed and nearly cheerful himself.

"Mister Bombadil," he said suddenly.

"You can call me Tom, my friend," he laughed. "But it is all right! I have guessed your mind. You wish me to save your brother, do you not?"

Kíli blinked. Who was this Tom Bombadil? How did he know everything before Kíli spoke it?

"Y-yes," Kíli said.

Tom laughed. "I already have!" he said. "But you want me to take down the wall in his mind. Do not look so surprised—Tom sees many things that are not plain to others. Is that what you want?"

A hope rose in Kíli then, stronger than he had known since the day he found Fíli in that cave. Tom  _knew_ —without being told!

"I came all this way looking for you," he said, his heart pounding. "I thought—no one else knew what to do, and Bofur told me about how you faced down the barrow-wights—"

"Faced down!" Tom laughed. "Barrow-wights listen to old Tom; they don't fight. They try to trap many a man, but they listen when Tom comes 'round!"

"Can you help Fíli?" Kíli pressed.

"Yes, yes!" said Tom happily. "I knew what you wanted before I saw you, master dwarf. I will help your brother come back to the way he should be."

Kíli's eyes widened and he let out a laugh, and tears once again stung the corners of his eyes—but this time, for the first time in a long time, they were tears of joy. He had pressed on through so much pain and so many trials, and his one and only lead was not only willing to help, but knew what he needed before asked! Kíli could not believe his fortune. He wanted to speak, but a strange, garbled sound came out instead. He blushed and wiped at the twin tears making their way down his face.

"My Goldberry is surely done with the mending," said Tom, still smiling warmly. His red cheeks glowed with life, and his blue eyes twinkled in the candlelight. "Let us go see your brother."

Kíli followed Tom down the hall back to the bedroom, his mind in a blur. He could not believe it. He felt a strange buzzing in his chest as he thought of his Fíli smiling at him, happy to see him once more, the darkness gone from his eyes and trust once again shining from within. They reached the bedroom just as Goldberry tied a knot on the bandage covering Fíli's stomach. Several bottles and a needle and thread lay on a tray beside her. She picked them up and rose as Kíli and Tom entered the room. Her shimmering eyes landed on Kíli, and she smiled.

"Your brother is safe now," she said. "Do you trust in the healing power of Goldberry, daughter of the River?"

Kíli nodded, still fighting tears. This was so  _quick_ —all this toil, and finally, Fíli was safe and sound and would soon be whole. He wondered at the strange power that rested in this strange couple deep in the Old Forest. Goldberry carried her tray out of the room, her movements fluid and quick as she stepped easily around her husband and her guest. Kíli's eyes rested on his brother.

Tom knelt down beside Fíli and looked over him with quick, sharp eyes. Kíli wondered he would do—would he touch him? Would he do some kind of magic? What kind of power did Tom hold that could fix the dark wall in Fíli's mind?

"Rest now, my lad!" Tom sang. He did not touch him. "Listen to old Tom calling! The darkness has no sway on you—remember friend and kin; remember love and joy and trust! Listen to Tom Bombadil! Have no fear of foe or friend. You are safe tonight!"

Tom smiled down at Fíli and then stood, rubbing his hands together. Kíli stared at him quizzically.

"Is that it?" he said.

"Dark things listen when Tom speaks," he said. "Do not fear. Your brother will wake in the morning and know you. Wash up and rest, Master Kíli. You have nothing to fear in the house of Tom Bombadil." With that, Tom left Kíli standing in the room with his slumbering brother.

Kíli stood for a long time, staring at the door after Tom Bombadil. His mind was racing. Eventually he remembered himself and washed up; nightclothes had been left for him on the other bed, and he marveled that they were just right for him. He lay down on the soft mattress and pulled up the warm covers, wondering if he would ever get to understand these mysterious people.

He had so many questions that he could not even think them all. Who was this strange person with his quiet, humble power?  _Dark things listen when Tom speaks,_  Kíli repeated in his head. He could attest to that. He thought back to Tom's singing in the darkness of the Old Forest; as soon as he had heard that voice, even the trees had listened. How old was this man? Where did he come from? What did Goldberry mean by  _daughter of the River_?

Kíli watched Fíli sleep on the other bed for a while and then closed his eyes as exhaustion washed over him. Almost immediately he fell asleep; his last thoughts before slumber took him were of Tom's quiet power. He had put on no airs and had not made a show, but somehow, Kíli knew in his heart that whatever power he held, it had worked.

* * *

Kíli awoke the next morning to the quiet stillness of Tom and Goldberry's home. The room was filled with a soft yellow light from the sun shining through a curtain facing the east. He blinked slowly and looked to Fíli in the other bed. His brother was still asleep, his mouth hanging slightly open, but his face peaceful. Kíli pushed off his covers and made his way to Fíli's side. He sat down on the edge of the mattress and watched Fíli sleep.

A nervous knot was twisting in his stomach. He was excited— _beyond_  excited—to have his brother back, but he knew what remembering was like after that fey creature in the cave had overtaken his mind. He had not simply remembered everything and forgotten what happened in the meantime, and he had the horrible suspicion that Fíli would not forget everything that had conspired since he had been found, either. He would remember. Kíli only hoped that he would see the truth—that it wasn't his fault; he hadn't known what he was doing or whom he was doing it to. He was not to blame for what had been done.

Kíli had never been a patient dwarf. He watched Fíli impatiently, wondering when his brother would wake up. He needed to see his brother's eyes, no longer unnaturally dark or untrusting. He needed to see  _Fíli_  again, and after waiting so long, he was not sure he could wait any longer. He took his brother's hand and squeezed gently.

Fíli's fingers squeezed back, and his eyelids fluttered; Kíli's heart jolted in his chest, and he watched eagerly as Fíli slowly woke up. His eyes caught Kíli's face, and the nervous twist in Kíli's stomach grew tighter. He smiled.

"Good morning, brother," Kíli said.

"Kíli," Fíli whispered, closing his eyes again. He held a pained expression that Kíli knew well; it was a look Fíli only had at one time—after a nightmare. Kíli did not hesitate. He did what he had always done when Fíli had nightmares; he leaned down and wrapped his big brother in a hug.

Fíli buried his face in Kíli's neck and made a soft hum of contentment, and Kíli's heart swelled at that one small sound. Fíli was coming back to him. He had his  _brother_  back. Kíli held on to him tightly, feeling Fíli breathing against him. He was murmuring something into Kíli's neck. Kíli listened, and his heart sank.

"It was just a dream," Fíli was whispering. "It was a dream, just a dream… just a dream…"

Kíli held onto Fíli tighter and said nothing as his joy began to trickle away. Still, he held on to the hope that maybe, just maybe, Fíli would continue to believe the lie he was telling himself.

After a long minute, Fíli loosened his grip, and Kíli let him back down into the pillow carefully. Fíli looked up at him, and Kíli stared into the light blue eyes of the brother that he had always known and had almost lost. He smiled nervously as Fíli studied his face.

"It's all right, Fíli," he said. "You're all right now."

Fíli moved to sit himself up, and Kíli lurched forward to help him. A grimace of pain passed Fíli's face; then, suddenly, it melted into horror as he looked around the room.

"Kíli," he said quietly, "where are we?"

"We're in Tom Bombadil's home," Kíli said nervously, holding his brother steady. "He found us and patched you up."

"But—but that was a dream," Fíli said. His voice was high and panicked as he turned his wide eyes back to his brother. "It was a dream. None of that happened… Kíli?"

Kíli could only hold Fíli's gaze for a moment before he dropped his eyes down. Fíli stiffened in his arms.

"No, no, no, no,  _no_ … it didn't—oh,  _no_ , oh  _Mahal_ —"

Kíli's eyes snapped back up to Fíli's face as the blond started to pull out of his brother's grip. He held on tighter, but Fíli ripped himself away and backed away, falling off the low bed.

"Fíli!" Kíli cried, reaching out, but Fíli pulled himself to his feet with a cry and stumbled back. He tripped and landed on his bottom and let out a shout of pain.

"What have I done—what have I done—"

"Fíli, it's all right—"

"Stay back!" Fíli said desperately, pulling himself back up and away from Kíli's outstretched hands. "I'll—I'll hurt you—"

"No, you  _won't_ ," Kíli said confidently. "It's all right. Just calm down."

"I tried to… I tried to  _kill you_ … oh,  _Mahal_ …" Fíli said, backing away with every step Kíli took forward. His pants for air were becoming more ragged; sobs broke through the panting, and he curled into himself, bowing his head and grabbing fistfuls of his hair. Kíli dashed forward, his heart pounding, but Fíli kept moving away until he suddenly hit the wall and let out a short cry of pain. Kíli never stopped moving toward him.

Suddenly, Fíli let out a horrible scream. Kíli stopped short.

" _Stay away from me!_ " he shouted hoarsely. "Kíli,  _please_ —I've done enough—"

"Fíli, stop running!" Kíli said, horrified. He caught hold of Fíli's arm, but Fíli ripped it away. His elbow caught Kíli across the jaw, and Kíli let out a surprised shout, letting go of his brother's arm to hold his own face.

Fíli let out a long, agonized wail and dropped to the floor.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" he sobbed. "I told you… I told you I'd hurt you, I told you to stay back—"

"It was an  _accident_ , Fíli!" Kíli said over his brother's noise. He knelt down at Fíli's side, but Fíli scrambled away. "You didn't mean to do it—it's all right…"

"But I  _did_  mean it!" Fíli said wretchedly. "N-not now—but then—I  _wanted_  you to hurt—I  _wanted_  you to suffer… oh,  _Mahal_!" The last word came out as a long keen of anguish, and he dragged himself into the corner and covered his head with his hands. As he sobbed, a cold, sick feeling came over Kíli; he stood and stared at his brother, wide-eyed, one hand over his mouth. He looked around, but Tom and Goldberry were nowhere to be seen.  _Of course._

Suddenly, Fíli gagged and pitched forward onto his knees. Before Kíli could react, Fíli retched, and Kíli let out a cry. He dove to his knees and wrapped an arm around his brother for support, pulling back his hair with his free hand. When Fíli had stopped, he let out a scream of pain and clapped his hands over his stomach, and Kíli pulled him back to keep him from falling into his own sick. He dragged him away from the mess, ignoring Fíli's weak fighting.

"N-no,  _no_ …" Fíli protested, but he had weakened himself too much. He could not fight back. Kíli checked the bandage around his brother's stomach—a spot of blood had begun to show through. He cursed. Fíli tried to curl up and pull away, but Kíli would not let him go.

"S-stop, Kíli, stop," Fíli begged. "Please—leave me—you can't be around me—"

"Nonsense, Fíli," Kíli said. "I'm not leaving you. You can't make me."

"But… but look at what I've  _done_ —"

"I don't care," Kíli said. He took hold of Fíli's wrists and pulled at them; Fíli pulled back, but Kíli was winning. Slowly, he managed to pull Fíli's arms away from the ball that the blond had made himself into. He wrapped them around his own body, and while initially Fíli protested, he finally gave in and held on tightly, burying his face into Kíli's tunic.

"I forgive you, Fíli," he said. "No matter what you've done—no matter what you've said—I know  _you_. I know the  _real_  you, Fíli… and to me, you are perfect. Nothing can change that.  _Nothing_."

Muffled moans, wails, and screams vibrated against Kíli's chest, but Fíli did not let go. Kíli held his brother tightly and brought his lips close to his ear; over and over he whispered  _I forgive you, I forgive you, I forgive you_. The longer he stayed, the more relaxed Fíli's body became, until finally Fíli's screams quieted and his sobs turned to soft hiccups and his forehead rested easily against his brother. He shifted to rest against Kíli more comfortably, still holding on tight, and Kíli leaned back against the wall with a sigh. He sat quietly, allowing Fíli to soak up the love and acceptance that he had certainly been craving for a long time now. He smiled.

"It'll be all right," he said softly. He felt exhausted. Fíli hiccuped tearfully on his chest.


	27. Guilt

For a long time, Kíli merely sat and held Fíli close in silence. His thoughts turned constantly to the surely burst stitches on his brother's stomach, but he would not move while Fíli rested comfortably against him; some part of him knew that his brother was drawing more from him than just physical comfort. He had been left in the darkness, alone and afraid, for nigh on three weeks now, and he had finally found what he had been searching for all that time. Kíli would not take that away.

Eventually Fíli fell asleep in Kíli's arms, and Kíli's attention was caught up in the offensive smell of sick that was far too close. He looked down at the mess of blond hair covering his brother's face and twisted his mouth; he would have to carry him if he wanted to get him back to his bed. He wasn't going to wake him—he wasn't even sure if he could. A twinge of discomfort ran through him, but if he was going to get rid of the stench of sick, he was going to have to do something. He wrapped one arm around his brother's torso and slid the other under his knees. Awkwardly he lifted him, almost falling but catching himself just in time; then he carried Fíli to his bed and laid him down as gently as he could. Fíli remained unconscious.

Kíli sat down next to his brother and smoothed the hair out of his face. His temples were warm; Kíli was not expert, but he was fairly sure that Fíli's temperature was higher than was healthy. Still, Goldberry had said to trust her healing ability, and given what she and Tom had already done, he would be faithless not to.

"You'll be fine," he whispered.

Now for the mess. Kíli stood and looked about the room for anything that he could use to clean it up, but he saw nothing. He ventured down the hall, peering into rooms and searching for either cleaning supplies or Tom or Goldberry, but he did not find anything—or anyone—he was looking for. He felt like a sneak. Eventually he reached the kitchen and searched the cabinets for some kind of rag.

"Ho, there!" called a familiar cheerful voice. Kíli whirled around, heat creeping into his cheeks; Tom stood in the entryway, as ruddy and chipper as ever.

"I-I was looking for cleaning supplies," Kíli said. "Fíli, he—he threw up. I was going to clean it…"

"Ah! Don't worry, Master Kíli—I will take care of that," said Tom with a laugh. "Tell me, how is your brother faring?"

"Uh…" Kíli said, rubbing the back of his neck. "He's… well, he's himself again. At least, he knows who he is. He knows who I am."

Tom smiled but said nothing; Kíli blinked and continued.

"But he knows what he's done, too," he said. "He remembers—he remembers  _everything_. And he's done so much… I wish he didn't remember."

Tom pulled out a chair from the small table in the kitchen and motioned for Kíli to sit, his kindly eyes shining with compassion.

"You have a lot to say, my friend," he said. "Sit with me a while and eat and tell me about your road."

"But Fíli—"

"My Goldberry will take care of Master Fíli," said Tom. He gestured to the chair again.

"I… I will tell you—I will—but I don't know when Fíli will wake," Kíli said, backing up and blushing again at his own bad manners. "I have to be there when he wakes. I don't want him to think I've left him."

Tom nodded graciously, never losing an ounce of cheer. "I understand," he said. "Let us go and see him."

Kíli and Tom went together back down to the guest room that had been set up for the two dwarves; Fíli was still asleep on his bed in the corner, and the puddle of sick remained in the other corner. Kíli grimaced at the offensive odor as he entered the room and took a seat at his brother's side. Tom left the room for a minute and returned with rags and a mop; he cleaned up Fíli's mess, singing nonsense to himself in the meantime. Kíli could not help but smile at the many choruses of  _ring-a-ding-dillo_  and  _hey, Bombadillo!_

"How is he faring?" Tom said finally as he finished his chore. Kíli looked up at his host.

"I don't know," he said. "I don't know how to…" he trailed off, wincing. "I don't know how to take care of him. I don't know how to take care of anybody."

Tom clapped a hand on Kíli's back and smiled warmly. "You brought him all the way here," he said. "It seems you know more than you think."

Kíli blinked rapidly and looked back down at his brother. He  _had_  gotten Fíli all the way here, but he had done a poor job of it. Without Tom and Goldberry's help, Fíli would be either dead or on death's door. It was his fault that Fíli had gotten stabbed. If he had only  _listened_  to Thorin…

"Do not regret the decisions you have made that brought you here," Tom said. "You saved his life."

"It was my  _fault_ , though," Kíli said, his voice suddenly thick. "If it weren't for me, this never would have happened. I made him angry, and he ran off, and then he didn't come back… and then everything that happened after that... If I had just—"

"Life is full of ifs," Tom said. "Do not fret over the past. What is done is done, and now your brother is on the mend. Think on that."

Kíli nodded faintly and sniffed. Tom patted his shoulder gently.

"His stitches," Kíli said suddenly. "I think he popped them. He tried to run from me…"

"We'll get him mended in a jiffy!" Tom said, bounding to his feet much quicker than a man of his size should have been able. "I will return with my Goldberry." Tom skipped off, his song ringing down the hallway. Kíli took Fíli's hand and watched him sleep.

Eventually Kíli heard the sound of Goldberry's clear singing; her voice was as sweet and calming as a bubbling brook, and Tom's rich voice blended with hers in a beautiful harmony. Kíli smiled despite himself. Their singing came closer, and Kíli shook Fíli gently, feeling guilty for waking him so soon. Surprisingly, Fíli awoke quickly with a groan.

"Hey," Kíli said. "I want you to meet our hosts."

Fíli's eyes widened as he looked from Kíli to his surroundings. He shrank into the bed and shook his head.

"No, no, I don't want to meet anyone—"

"Relax, Fee," Kíli said. "They saved your life. They brought you back."

Fíli looked unsure, but did not have time to protest again, for at that very moment Goldberry entered the room. Fíli looked up at her with nervous eyes, and she smiled at him; he turned his gaze to Kíli, who nodded reassuringly. Fíli's gaze returned to the tall woman standing before him.

"I am Goldberry," she said. "Welcome, Fíli."

"Hello," said Fíli meekly.

"My husband tells me that your stitches have come undone," Goldberry continued. "May I have a look?"

"Stitches?" Fíli said, furrowing his brow. He looked down at his stomach.

"You were asleep," Kíli said. "Let her fix them for you."

Fíli's eyes darted from Goldberry to Kíli to his bandaged torso. He nodded slowly, and Goldberry sat down gracefully at his side.

"Would you like something so you don't feel it?" she said.

"Will it make me tired again?" Fíli replied.

"Yes, but the pain will be less."

Fíli shook his head, looking at Kíli. "I don't want to sleep again. I want to be awake."

Goldberry smiled affectionately at Fíli. "You are brave," she said. "I will be gentle."

Kíli took Fíli's hand again and sat quietly as Goldberry began to work. Fíli watched his face with sad eyes. He winced and squeezed Kíli's hand as the needle went into his skin.

"You all right?" Kíli said.

"N-no," Fíli huffed, squeezing Kíli's hand again. "No, I'm-m—ha-ah—not all right."

"She can give you something for the pain," Kíli offered.

"No, that's n-not the problem—I can take this," Fíli said. "I'm just—not a-all right."

Kíli frowned as he looked into his brother's tortured eyes. Fíli had always been determined to feel guilty about anything that went wrong, and Kíli had never had any idea how to stop him. He placed his other hand on top of Fíli's and held on tightly.

"No one is going to hold it against you," he said. "I know I don't."

"You don't know that," said Fíli, his eyes swimming with fresh tears. "Ki-ili, what I've done—"

"Stop," Kíli said. Fíli snapped his jaw shut, and his chin trembled; he winced as the needle went into his skin again, and a tear escaped down the side of his face. His fingernails dug into Kíli's palm, but Kíli ignored it.

"There," said Goldberry; Kíli heard the  _snip_  of scissors, and Fíli sank into his pillow and closed his eyes. Kíli rubbed his thumb against the back of his brother's hand.

"Lift him up, Kíli, and I'll wrap him up again."

Kíli let go of Fíli's hand and leaned forward, wrapping his arms around his brother. He lifted him up, and Fíli gasped, latching on to Kíli and dropping his nose into the crook of his little brother's neck. Goldberry wrapped him up quickly and wordlessly left the brothers in privacy. Fíli would not let go.

"I'm sorry, Fee," he whispered. "I'm sorry for everything." Fíli started to shake his head, but Kíli spoke again. "If I hadn't been so  _foolish_ , none of this would have happened. This is all my fault."

"But Kíli—"

"You can't blame yourself this time, Fíli," Kíli said. "I won't let you. You did nothing wrong."

Fíli pulled back at those words and looked at Kíli incredulously. "Kíli, you can't be serious," he said.

"I am," Kíli said. "Fíli, I don't  _care_  what you did when you—when you couldn't remember. That wasn't  _you_. You wouldn't do that."

"But I  _did_ ," said Fíli wretchedly. "I remember it, Kíli—I remember h-hitting you—and h-holding you in the water—" He stopped and bowed his head, breathing raggedly, and grabbed onto his hair. "I remember I wanted you to  _die_. I wanted you to leave me alone and I didn't care how that happened."

Kíli was silent for a moment. He remembered it, too, and it was not something that he wanted to dwell on.

"You wouldn't do that, though," he repeated. "Not  _you_."

"Kíli, it  _was_  me!" Fíli shouted. He looked up at Kíli with wild eyes. "Can't you see that? How do you know I'm not capable of—of  _that_ —how do you know that hasn't been in me this whole time?"

Kíli opened and closed his mouth, searching for words and finding none.

"I just know," he said finally.

Fíli cast him a skeptical look. "How do you know? How  _could_  you know?"

"Because you wouldn't let me die," Kíli said.

Fíli looked at his brother in utter confusion.

"Remember when I was sick?" Kíli continued. "I was so tired of fighting—I was so tired of living. Fíli, you don't know how much it  _hurt_ , how  _hard_  it was just to breathe. I couldn't do it anymore. I gave up. But you wouldn't let me. You didn't let me die, and you were so angry that I had given up…  _that_  is you. Not whatever you did in the past few weeks.  _That_ —before—is the Fíli I know. The  _real_  Fíli."

Fíli stared at Kíli, his eyes shining with unshed tears. Kíli took a deep breath and sighed; he clearly wasn't getting anywhere. He pulled Fíli into another hug, and his brother melted into him.

"It'll be all right," he said quietly. Fíli did not respond; he simply buried his face in his brother's shoulder and took a deep breath. Then he froze.

"Kíli, you stink," he said.

Kíli guffawed and pulled back. A sheepish grin graced his brother's face.

" _I_  stink?" he retorted. "I'm not the only one! You should smell yourself!"

"I think I have," Fíli said. He frowned. "I don't suppose I could bathe with these stitches."

"Probably not," Kíli agreed. "But I'm sure you could clean up a little. I'll ask. You stay here."

"I'm not going anywhere," Fíli said as Kíli jumped up and left the room. Kíli grinned; Fíli's sheepish humor wasn't much, but it was better than guilt and tears. He found Tom and Goldberry in the kitchen, preparing breakfast together; they moved about each other with grace, and for a moment, Kíli stopped and watched them. Their song was beautiful, and though they were simply moving about, it almost seemed as if they were doing some kind of dance, so lively were their steps. Goldberry noticed him watching and stopped, smiling down at him joyfully.

"What can we do for you, Kíli?" she said.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but Fíli wanted to wash up," he said, suddenly feeling self-conscious under her gaze.

"Of course," said Tom, stopping beside his wife. "We will bring him everything he needs."

Kíli shuffled his feet, feeling out-of-place. "Should I help?"

"Do not worry about anything while you are here, young master Kíli," said Tom. "Tom and Goldberry are happy to take care of anyone who needs to stay under their roof."

"All right. Thank you," Kíli said, feeling a flood of relief run through him. If these two were happy to care for his brother, he had far less reason to worry. They certainly knew what they were doing more than he did. He ran back to his brother and sat down again at his side; Fíli was sitting back with his eyes closed, his face set in a grimace.

"You all right?" Kíli said.

"Is that really a question?" Fíli said, keeping his eyes shut tight. Kíli sighed.

"They're bringing things so you can wash up," he said. "Do you need help?"

Fíli finally opened his eyes and looked at Kíli. He bit his lip.

"You're sure I can't just take a bath?" he said.

"Not for a couple of days," said Tom, entering the room with a large basin of hot water. Towels and cloths hung over his arm with a bar of soap and a comb perched precariously on top; however, even with Tom's jaunty movements, nothing fell from his hands. Fíli started at the intrusion and immediately grabbed Kíli's arm, and Kíli laid a hand over his brother's reassuringly.

"It's just Tom Bombadil," he said. "No need to worry."

"Hello, young master Fíli!" Tom exclaimed, setting down his burdens. Fíli swallowed and tightened his grip on Kíli's arm as Tom came closer. He stopped, watching Fíli's face for a moment; then he smiled and took a step back.

"You have nothing to fear in the house of Tom Bombadil," he said. "Especially not Tom himself! But I will leave you to wash up. Be merry, Master Fíli! You are well cared for."

Fíli said nothing; he merely nodded. Tom smiled again and skipped off, singing nonsense to himself. As he retreated, Fíli's iron grip on his brother's arm loosened, and Kíli hopped up to bring the basin closer to the bed. A smaller bowl floated on top of the water; he pulled it out and set it aside.

"Really, Fíli, you don't need to be afraid of him," he said. "He's really nice. Odd… but nice."

Fíli buried his face in his hands and groaned. "I'm sorry," he said. "I just… don't want to meet new people. Not now."

"They're our hosts," Kíli protested, pulling Fíli up into a sitting position. He handed Fíli a cloth and the soap. "They saved your life, Fíli."

"Didn't feel like it at the time," Fíli muttered.

"Well, if you recall, you also thought I was trying to hurt you," Kíli said. "And that wasn't true, either."

Fíli sighed and dropped his hands into his lap. Kíli grimaced.  _Good job. You didn't have to remind him._

"Sorry," he said. "Here, I'll tie your hair back for you."

"Thanks," Fíli said quietly, avoiding Kíli's eye. Kíli pulled the mess of Fíli's hair back and tied it with a piece of string from his bag, and Fíli started to wash his face. He scrubbed at his arms and chest next, and Kíli sat back and let him clean up, dipping his hands into the water and washing his own face. As he dried his face and hair, he thought he heard a small whimper, and he looked up, but Fíli was simply scrubbing his hands meticulously. Kíli watched him; as he continued to scrub at his hands, his face grew more and more distressed, and he whimpered again. He was focused now, rubbing so hard at his hands that they were turning bright red. Another whimper, and Kíli realized what was happening.

"Fíli, stop it!" he cried, diving onto the bed and taking hold of his brother's wrists. Fíli flinched and looked down, pulling his knees up and fighting to control his breathing. He pulled at Kíli's grip, but Kíli held tight. He ducked his head, trying to catch Fíli's eye, but Fíli would only look down.

"Fíli," Kíli said, but he did not know what to say next. Fíli pulled at his grip again, but Kíli did not let go. Fíli's fingers curled up into fists.

"It's all right," said Kíli gently, feeling as if he were attempting to calm a wounded animal. "It's all right now. You're all right.  _We're_  all right."

"I'm  _not_  all right," Fíli said. "I'm  _not_ , I'm—"

"Fíli, listen to me," Kíli said. "I'm  _here_. I'm still here. You didn't kill me."

"You don't understand—you don't understand," Fíli whispered, shaking his head.

Kíli sighed and eyed his brother sadly. No, he didn't understand. But he could not simply let his brother wallow in guilt he did not deserve to have. For now, if he couldn't convince him, he could at least distract him.

"Come on, Fíli," he said. "I'll wash your hair, and then we can put new braids in it. That'll make you feel better, right?"

Fíli looked up slowly; he considered for a moment and then nodded. Kíli smiled sadly and let go of his brother's wrists; the elder dwarf drew his arms in and wrapped them around himself. Kíli drew the basin to the edge of the bed.

"Can you lean over, Fee?" he said.

"I wish I could take a bath," Fíli grumbled, slowly pulling himself to his knees. He grunted and grimaced as he knelt over, and Kíli laid a hand on his shoulder, but he shook his head.

"I'm fine," he said.

"Are you sure?"

"I'll be fine."

Kíli took that as his cue to begin. He untied the string wrapped around his brother's dull waves and pulled loose the loose braids that barely stayed in place. He grabbed the bowl he had set aside earlier and filled it with water; then he poured it over his brother's head. Fíli's shoulders relaxed as the water ran over him, and Kíli smiled as he carried on. He raked his fingers through the tangles, pulling them out as gently as he could, and then he rubbed in the soap. Fíli made no sound as his little brother worked.

"It was so strange, seeing you with your hair a mess," he said before he could stop himself. He winced.

"I didn't particularly care," Fíli replied. "I was more concerned with… other things."

Kíli paused. Should he ask?

"What other things?" he asked.

"Keeping myself safe," said Fíli. His breath hitched, and Kíli stayed his movements, concerned.

"You don't have to—"

"No, I have to," Fíli said with a wavering voice. "I have to explain."

Kíli pressed his lips together. "All right," he said, continuing to wash his brother's hair. "I'm listening."

"I was afraid— _really_  afraid," Fíli said. "And I thought everyone was just there to torment me. I didn't know who I was or how I got there, and I just wanted to get out."

"Where would you have gone?" Kíli asked. He poured water through his brother's golden waves; dirty, soapy water flowed into the basin on the floor.

"I don't know," said Fíli. "I wasn't thinking that far. I was so  _convinced_  that everyone was lying to me—that you were going to do something horrible to me. I didn't know what or why. I thought…" He trailed off into silence, and Kíli said nothing. He finished rinsing Fíli's hair and wrapped a towel around it.

"Here, sit up," he said, wrapping his arms around his brother's torso and pulling him upright. Fíli groaned and laid a hand over his bandages, pulling his legs out from beneath him and crossing them. Kíli scooted behind him and pulled the towel off his head, rubbing it through Fíli's hair. Although it was still damp, it already shone much brighter than before. Kíli smiled. He reached for the comb Tom had left and started working on the tangles in his brother's hair.

"What did you think?" he said.

"I don't know," Fíli replied. "I felt…  _angry_. I didn't know why. I was just  _so_  angry all the time. But especially when I saw you."

Kíli furrowed his brow as he worked on a particularly stubborn knot. "When you saw  _me_?"

"It all seems so foolish now," Fíli said. "But I didn't know who you were, and you were the first person I saw when I woke up—it was like there was all this rage inside me, and I couldn't remember why, but something in me kept telling me that it was your fault."

Something in Kíli's stomach dropped, and he paused for a moment and bit his lip.  _Your fault._

"It's not your fault, Kíli," Fíli said, turning suddenly. His eyes were wide. "It wasn't—none of this was your fault— "

"But it was," Kíli whispered.

Fíli grabbed hold of Kíli's wrist and looked him fiercely in the eyes. "It was  _not_  your fault, Kíli," he said. "You did nothing to me. It was that—that  _thing_ …" He closed his eyes, and his grip tightened on his brother's wrist. "If you had seen it—"

"I did," Kíli interrupted.

Fíli blinked and furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"You didn't know?" Kíli said. "I thought you would have known… that time I came to see you and I couldn't remember why you were there. It got me too. I went back to the cave for answers—or help, I don't know—and it attacked me."

Fíli stared at his little brother in horror, still holding his wrist tightly.

"Why would you do that?" he said.

"No one knew what to do, Fee," Kíli said. "Thorin was just  _sitting around_ , as if something would happen if we just  _waited_  long enough—"

"And you took matters into your own hands," Fíli said. He looked down and huffed, a small smile upon his face. "I guess I wouldn't expect any less out of you."

"I just needed you back," Kíli mumbled. "I don't feel right when you're not around."

Fíli looked up at him suddenly, his face crossed with confusion. "Wait, if you got attacked too, why weren't you—like me?" he asked.

"I had Gimli with me," said Kíli. "He attacked it… but I was still so afraid, I couldn't even remember anyone at first… it took me almost a day to remember Thorin. It took longer to remember you, and what had happened to you." He took a deep breath. "Fíli, I  _know_  none of this was your fault. I remember what it was like. It was terrifying enough for me—I can't imagine what it was like for you."

"But the anger I felt… did you feel that, too?" said Fíli, searching his brother's eyes.

Kíli shook his head.

"Then how do you know that's not just me?" he said. "That I didn't just  _want_  to do all that?"

"Fíli, it  _wasn't you_ ," Kíli said firmly. "Do you want to do any of that now?"

"Of course not," Fíli replied immediately.

"There you have it," Kíli said. "I don't know why you were like that. Maybe it's because you were angry already when you were attacked. But I  _cannot_  believe you would have wanted that, had you known who I was. I  _will_  not. Now stop this. Let me finish your hair."

Fíli huffed and turned back around, and Kíli continued combing his hair in silence. When he had finished, he scooted to Fíli's side and started sectioning off his hair for braids. Fíli batted his hand away.

"I can do my own braids, Kíli," he protested.

"So?" Kíli said. "Do your mustache, then. I want to do this."

"Only if I can do yours after," Fíli said. Kíli stopped and looked at him with narrowed eyes; a sly grin sat on Fíli's face. He chuckled.

"Not a chance," he said. "You'd have to catch me first."

Fíli put on a feigned hurt expression. "Now, that's unfair!" he said. "I've been stabbed by an  _orc_ , and you're going to make me chase you?"

The smile dropped from Kíli's face as quickly as it had come, and Fíli's eyes grew wide.

"I'm sorry, Kíli," he said hastily. "I didn't mean to—"

"It's all right," Kíli said. He offered his brother a wan smile. "It's fine. Don't worry about it."

Fíli slumped over, sighing, and Kíli silently started working on his braids. After a minute, Fíli pulled the beads out of his mustache and re-braided it quickly and efficiently. He snapped the beads back into place just as Kíli moved to his other side.

"Thank you, Kíli," said Fíli.

"What for?" Kíli replied.

"For not giving up on me," Fíli said. "No matter what I said or did—you saved me, Kíli. Thank you."

Kíli bit his lip and finished the last braid in Fíli's hair. He supposed that in the end, he hadn't given up, but the days following his near-drowning replayed in his mind. He didn't have to tell Fíli about that. He had faltered in his faith, but he had followed through—and he had Fíli back. That was what mattered.

"I'm done," he said. "Do you want to see?"

"Sure," Fíli said.

Kíli searched the room for a hand mirror and found one in the drawer of a dresser at the far side of the room. He returned and held it before his brother.

Fíli started when he saw himself in the mirror, staring intently at his own image. He touched the neat braids in his hair hesitantly, as if he was not sure they were there at all; then a smile graced his face.

"I thought I'd look…" Fíli said, trailing off.

"Different?"

Fíli nodded.

"You're still you, Fee," Kíli said. "The same brother I've always had."

Fíli's lip trembled as he nodded again, but he was still smiling.


	28. Alive

“Come _on_ , Fíli,” Kíli said, tugging at Fíli’s arm. Fíli stayed stubbornly in place, leaning back against the wall in his bed.

“I don’t want to,” he grumbled.

“Fíli, I’m _starving_ ,” said Kíli. “And I know you must be, too. Why won’t you come eat?”

“I don’t feel well,” Fíli said. He avoided his brother’s eye.

Kíli sighed and let Fíli’s arm drop, and Fíli immediately wrapped it around himself. He still would not look up.

“I _know_ you don’t feel well, but you still have to eat,” Kíli said. “What is the problem?”

“I just don’t want to see new people,” Fíli said to his knees.

“ _Why?_ ” said Kíli, exasperated.

“I just don’t!” Fíli shouted. He rested his arms on his knees and buried his face in them, and Kíli huffed as frustration burned in his gut. He could not understand what was keeping his brother from seeing Tom and Goldberry. They had only been helpful and they had never judged him—what could the problem possibly be?

“Fíli,” he said, sitting down on the mattress, “you’ll be fine. I promise. Just come eat.”

“I’m not hungry,” came Fíli’s muffled reply.

“That’s a lie, and you know it.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Kíli rolled his eyes. This was ridiculous. He wasn’t going to get anywhere if he kept trying to convince him.

“That’s it,” he said, pulling again at Fíli’s arm. Fíli jumped, but Kíli was too quick for him; before he could fight, Kíli had his brother’s arm around his neck and was pulling him up.

“Wha—hey!” Fíli protested, but Kíli pulled him along, and Fíli was forced to follow. They made it to the hallway before Fíli started sagging in his brother’s arms.

“Kíli, slow down,” he gasped, clutching his abdomen with his free hand. Kíli halted and looked at his older brother; his teeth were clenched and his eyes were shut tight. A bolt of remorse shot through Kíli as he realized that he was pushing his brother too hard.

“Sorry,” he said. “I got a little carried away.”

“You carried _me_ away,” Fíli said with a chuckle. His smile faded quickly as he looked up into his brother’s eyes, his brow creased in a frown. “Do I really have to go?”

“ _Yes_ , Fíli,” Kíli replied. “You need to eat. Let’s go.”

“I just don’t feel very well,” Fíli mumbled, but still he walked along with his brother, slower now than before. Kíli ignored his excuse and carried on until they reached the room where Tom and Goldberry were laying things on the table, dancing around each other and singing as usual. He helped Fíli sit and then took his own seat, and before he knew it, a plate overflowing with sausage and eggs and all sorts of good things was pushed under his nose. His mouth watered.

“Thank you,” he said to Tom, who was smiling over the two brothers. Tom laughed and took a seat himself, allowing Goldberry to serve him his meal.

“We’re glad you decided to join us, Fíli,” said Goldberry, taking her seat. Fíli looked up at her timidly, opening his mouth and then closing it again.

“Indeed, we’re glad to see you recovering,” Tom added. “Please, my friends—eat! There is plenty to go around.”

“Thank you,” Fíli said quietly, casting his gaze downward. He looked at the food hungrily and started on his meal. Kíli grinned. _I’m not hungry, my foot,_ he thought. Of course he was hungry.

Fíli’s gaze turned to Kíli suddenly, as if he could feel his brother staring. A scowl crossed his face.

“What?” he snapped. Immediately his eyes widened and he glanced up at Tom and Goldberry, his face reddening. He looked back at Kíli apologetically and then stared down at his food, pushing the sausage around his plate.

“It’s all right, Master Fíli,” said Tom. “You are still unwell. We understand your discomfort.”

Fíli looked up again, surprised; his cheeks turned an even darker shade of red.

“Thank you,” he said. “And—thank you for saving me.” He looked as if he wanted to say more, but he bit his lip.

“It would not have been possible without the help of your brother,” Tom said, casting his blue eyes onto the brunet. Kíli frowned. _None of this would have happened at all without me._

“Aye, he was very determined,” Fíli quipped. He smiled at Kíli. “No matter what I said or did—what I _almost_ did—he still fought for me. I don’t deserve such a brother, really.”

“Now, that’s not true!” Kíli objected. “After everything you’ve done for me in my life, Fíli, you can’t say that.”

The two brothers looked at each other for a long moment; Kíli could see a hundred objections in his brother’s eyes, but he did not speak. Kíli shook his head slightly, and Fíli sighed and turned back to Tom and Goldberry.

“Anyway, thank you,” he said again. “If there is anything I can do in return—”

“Oh, no!” Goldberry said with a laugh. “Do not worry about anything while you are here. We have cared for many a traveler; you are no burden to us.”

“You may stay as long as you have need,” Tom added.

Fíli raised his eyebrows at his hosts, but he offered no protest. He smiled and bowed his head gratefully.

“Well, then,” Fíli said, taking on a more confident air, “I suppose we should better acquaint ourselves. If it is not too bold, may I ask—who are you? And why do you live in such a place as this?”

“Well, I am Tom Bombadil!” Tom said. “I am as you see me, Master Fíli.”

“But—forgive me, but _what_ are you?” said Fíli. “You’re not a Man, and you’re certainly not a Dwarf—and I can’t imagine that you’re an Elf or a Hobbit.”

“I am Eldest,” Tom said. “Master of wood, water, and hill. I do not own the land, but the land does not own me. Tom was here before the trees, before the river, before Dwarves and Men and Elves awakened—before the Kindler with her fair hand laid the stars in the sky. That’s what I am.”

“Eldest,” Fíli repeated, pondering. His eyes widened. “Forn! You’re Forn, aren’t you?”

Tom’s eyes gleamed. “I have many names by many people. The Elves call me Iarwain Ben-adar; Men call me Orald; yes, Dwarves have called me Forn, but I call myself Tom Bombadil.”

“Forn… I didn’t believe Glóin…” Fíli said, turning his gaze to Kíli, who stared back at him with the same wide-eyed expression. He had heard stories of Forn, of course, and he knew that in the Common Tongue, it meant _Eldest_ , but he had simply thought of it as a name—never as a description.

“Yes, I am Forn,” Tom laughed. “And many other things besides. And here beside me is the River-woman’s daughter, my Goldberry. Tom had to catch his pretty lady before she caught Tom.”

“What do you mean?” asked Kíli.

Tom launched into a lively tale—more song than spoken word—of his adventures with the River and her daughter, with Goldberry chiming in here and there. Fíli and Kíli hung on to every word with fascination. But every once in a while, Kíli would look away from his hosts and watch Fíli instead. He was listening with great interest, even laughing, as much as he was able. Kíli’s spirits rose higher and higher as he watched his brother finally—after all this time—come alive.

* * *

 Fíli’s good mood lasted until the afternoon. After lunch, he became increasingly irritable, but he would not tell Kíli why.

“What is the _matter_?” Kíli said, exasperated. He flopped down onto the couch over the arm and looked up at his brother, who was leaning back, staring out into space. Fíli mumbled something unintelligible, and Kíli sighed.

“I didn’t catch that,” he said.

“I’m just tired,” Fíli repeated. He looked down at Kíli sadly. His cheeks were flushed, and a frown seemed to be etched into his face. Kíli looked him over skeptically; then he swung his legs over the arm of the couch to the floor and sat up. He placed a hand on Fíli’s forehead.

“What are you doing?” Fíli said, jerking his head back, but Kíli kept his palm firmly planted on his brother’s temples. Definitely warm.

“You’re not healed yet,” he said. “You’ve still got a fever from the infection. Maybe you should rest.”

“Stop touching me,” Fíli grumbled, batting Kíli’s hand away. Kíli gave him a hard look.

“Fíli, if you want to rest, all you have to do is say so,” he said. “I can help you back to bed.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Fíli said, casting his eyes downward. His hand strayed to his stomach, and Kíli’s gaze followed the movement. He glanced back up at Fíli’s face.

“Fee, what are you hiding?” he asked, though he knew the answer.

“I’m not—”

“You don’t have to lie.”

Fíli huffed and sank further into the couch, closing his eyes. “It hurts,” he said, his voice cracking. “It hurts a lot.”

“Come lie down, then,” said Kíli. “You don’t have to stay up if you don’t want to.”

For a moment, Fíli did not speak; he merely kept his eyes closed and sighed. Kíli waited for a response.

“All right,” said Fíli finally. “Let’s go.”

With a smile, Kíli hopped up and reached out his hands to help his brother. Fíli took them and attempted to pull himself up, but his face contorted and he grunted in pain. He let go and sat back, grimacing. Kíli twisted his mouth and thought for a moment; then, he sat down next to Fíli and took his arm, pulling it behind his neck. Carefully they stood up together, and though Kíli walked as slowly as he could, Fíli still lagged behind. He stumbled and his knees buckled, but Kíli caught him just in time and helped him back to his feet.

“All right, change of plans,” said Kíli. “How about you rest here on the couch?”

“Thank you,” Fíli said, turning and resting his forehead on Kíli’s shoulder. He stumbled back to the couch and lay down with Kíli’s help; Kíli found a blanket and covered him.

“I’ll leave you be if you’d like,” said Kíli, ignoring the twist of discomfort in his chest. Never had he seen his brother so helpless.

“No, it’s fine,” Fíli said. “You don’t have to go.”

“All right,” Kíli replied. “But you rest.”

Fíli did not reply; his eyes were closed, and he took a careful breath and let it out slowly. Kíli sat on the floor beside him, and within minutes, the blond was asleep.

For a while, Kíli stayed where he was and watched his brother rest. Though he was clearly unconscious, his brow remained furrowed, and every so often a short whimper would sound from his lips. Concern for his brother burned in his heart. Fíli was clearly hiding his pain and discomfort, but not well enough—Kíli had felt how heavily his brother had leaned against him. He was much weaker than he let on.

 _He was almost dead yesterday,_ he reminded himself. _Give him time. He will heal._ Still, fear for his brother’s health left him nervous. Fíli would never admit just how badly he was doing to him—he had no way to gauge when he would be well enough to start the journey back home. He cringed as he thought of his mother and uncle. Surely the ponies would have found their way home by now, if they had not been attacked by other creatures or stolen by vagabonds. He would not be surprised if his family thought that he and Fíli were dead. _I’m going to be in so much trouble._

“How is everything here?”

Kíli jumped and looked towards the entrance to the living room; Goldberry stood smiling there, her pale hands folded over her shimmering blue gown.

“He’s not feeling well,” Kíli said. “Is he going to be all right?”

“He will be just fine,” said Goldberry. “Wounds take time to heal.”

“Well, that I know,” said Kíli, rubbing his left side. “And sometimes they don’t heal at all.”

“Fíli will heal,” Goldberry said confidently. “Do not fear. He was near death, but you brought him in time.”

“The knife,” Kíli said. “It didn’t—it didn’t pierce anything, did it? You know—inside.”

Goldberry shook her head. “He was very fortunate. Only flesh and muscle were pierced. He will feel pain, but he is no longer in danger.”

Kíli looked at his brother furtively, making sure he was still asleep. His brother’s mouth hung open slightly, and his eyes roved through dreams beneath his eyelids. Kíli took a deep breath.

“But will it stop? Eventually, I mean.”

Goldberry gave Kíli a curious look. “Why are you asking this, Kíli?”

Kíli glanced at Fíli again. He would not risk this conversation—not where Fíli could possibly hear him, even if it were only in his dreams. Fíli could never know. He _would_ never know.

“Can we go somewhere else and talk?” he said.

Goldberry nodded and beckoned, and Kíli hopped up to follow her. She led him to the kitchen, and they sat down there together. Goldberry’s ever-shifting eyes lay on Kíli as she waited for him to speak. It was strange, Kíli thought—this woman’s gaze. It felt somehow otherworldly and more of this world than anything he had ever known. He did not fully understand Tom Bombadil’s story about Goldberry; from what he could gather, she was possibly some kind of water-spirit—a fey creature herself, one who had attempted to pull Tom himself into the river on their first meeting. But she did not strike fear in his heart, and he felt no danger when he was around her. Instead, he felt only warmth, compassion, and joy, and quite a bit of playfulness. Tom seemed to have tamed her dangerous qualities with his love, and she emanated the same feeling as he, though to a lesser degree. Despite what reason would tell him, he felt safe.

“A long time ago, there was an accident,” he began. “I was teaching Fíli how to shoot a bow, and I stepped in his range and then told him to shoot. I flustered him, and he missed his target and shot me instead. The arrow pierced my lung, and it took me a long time to recover. I almost died.”

“Why are you telling me this, Kíli?” said Goldberry.

“Fíli doesn’t know, but it still hurts every once in a while,” he said. “Not often—well, it wasn’t often. Then I almost drowned twice in two weeks, and it’s been hurting a lot more often. I still haven’t told him—but it’s been hard to keep it a secret.”

“May I see?” Goldberry said.

“Is there something you can do about it?” Kíli replied, pulling off his tunic. He pointed to the white scar on his left side. “If I can be rid of this forever—well, it would be best for me and Fíli both.”

Goldberry examined the scar with her shifting eyes; she pressed against it with her thumb, and Kíli gasped in pain. Immediately she lifted her hand and met Kíli’s gaze.

“I’m sorry, Kíli, but neither Tom nor I can do anything about this,” she said. “The wound is on the inside.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Kíli said, slipping his tunic back over his head. “I’ll just—have to hide it the best I can. But I don’t want the same thing to happen to my brother. If that knife pierced anything but flesh—”

“Do not worry,” Goldberry interrupted. “Fíli will be fine. His wound is not as deep as yours.”

Kíli breathed a sigh of relief. “Good,” he said. “Thank you. But he is hiding his pain already. We need to get home, but I don’t want to push him. I’ve come too far to lose him because he won’t tell me he needs to rest.”

“I will talk to him,” said Goldberry. She offered Kíli a reassuring smile. “Do not fret. You are in good hands.”

“I know,” Kíli replied. “You and Tom have been nothing but kind. I am grateful for your kindness.”

Goldberry’s eyes shone gold with a warm light as her smile grew wider. “You are most welcome, Kíli,” she said.

Kíli smiled back awkwardly, unsure what to say next, now that his fears had been alleviated. He cleared his throat.

“I should, uh—I don’t want to leave Fíli alone,” he said, rising from his chair and steadying it as he almost knocked it over. “I don’t know how he’ll do if I leave him alone for too long.”

“Of course,” said Goldberry, her smile never wavering. Kíli backed up and left her in the kitchen alone, his face flushed with heat. His elders had taught him many things, but not how to properly communicate with a tall, graceful woman who was not of dwarf-kind. When he rounded the corner, his shoulders dropped, and he blew out a puff of air. He felt safe in Goldberry’s presence, but he also felt incredibly awkward. He wondered why.

Fíli was still asleep when he took his place back at his side. Kíli knelt on the floor next to the couch and looked at him; he started when he noticed the tears rolling down his brother’s face. Immediately he took hold of Fíli’s shoulders and shook.

“Fíli!” he called.

Fíli started awake with a gasp and immediately swung out, but Kíli caught his arms.

“It’s just me,” he said. “It’s just me, Fíli. Calm down.”

Fíli’s panicked eyes met Kíli’s, and a tearful gasp left his lips. He let out a soft wail and dropped his head back onto the couch, closing his eyes again. Kíli let go of his arms, and Fíli covered his face with his hands.

“I can’t sleep, I can’t sleep,” Fíli whispered. He let out a sob.

“What do you mean you can’t sleep?” Kili said. “You were just sleeping…”

“I can’t, Kili,” said Fili. “I don’t want to—I keep seeing things, I keep dreaming about what I’ve done, what I could have done…”

Kíli stammered, unnerved by Fíli’s demeanor. Fíli had had nightmares before, to be sure, and Kíli had always been there for him afterwards, but never before had Fíli awoken like _this_. Usually the only indication of bad dreams was the distant, shadowed look in his eyes, and Kíli would just _know_ what had happened. This was something else entirely.

“I-It’s all right, Fíli,” he said nervously. “It was just a dream.”

“It _wasn’t_ just a dream, Kíli!” Fíli cried. “It was a _memory_! A memory of what _I_ did to _you_!”

“Now, don’t do this again,” Kíli said. “We talked about this. It wasn’t _you_ —you were frightened and you didn’t know who you were. You didn’t know who I was.”

“But—”

“No,” Kíli said. He bent over and pulled his brother into his arms, hugging him tightly. “I don’t care. I don’t care what you did. I told you, I forgive you.”

Fíli dissolved into uncontrollable sobs then, and Kíli held on tight, though his heart was pounding. He pulled himself up onto the couch and sat down, pulling Fíli in closer; the elder dwarf gasped in pain, and Kíli started, but Fíli sank into him, clinging tightly, his fingers curled into the fabric of his little brother’s tunic.

“I’m so sorry,” Fíli sobbed.

“It’s all right,” said Kíli.

“It’s _not_ , though, it’s—”

“Hey, shut up,” Kíli said. “I’m trying to be comforting here.”

A breathy chuckle sounded into Kíli’s collarbone, and he grinned. After a few moments, Fíli pulled back and gritted his teeth as he tried to hold himself upright; Kíli put a hand behind him for support, and he leaned into it gratefully.

“Ugh,” Fíli said, wiping tears from his eyes. “I feel terrible still.”

“Of course you do—look at you,” Kíli said. “Beating yourself up like that. It isn’t fair. You can’t do that.”

Fíli cast his eyes downward and sniffed. “Yeah, well,” he said, “that’s easier said than done.”

Kíli sighed and said nothing, watching his brother sadly. Fíli wrung his hands.

“It just feels like everything is different,” Fíli said. “Like I’ve—like I’ve ruined everything, and it will never be the same. It can’t be the same.”

“What do you think you’ve ruined?” said Kíli.

Fíli opened his mouth and closed it again, searching the air. “I… I don’t know,” he said. “Something. I don’t—I don’t know, Kíli, it’s just how I feel.”

Suddenly, Kíli had an idea.

“Stay here,” he said, grabbing Fíli’s ankle. “I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?” Fíli said, watching Kíli rise with a raised eyebrow.

“Just stay here,” Kíli repeated, dashing out of the room.

“Well, I can’t really go anywhere, can I?” Fíli called after him. Kíli grinned and searched the house. He stopped in the kitchen pressed his lips together.

“Hello?” he called. “Tom? Goldberry! Hello!”

“Yes, young master Kíli?” said Tom, rounding a corner and smiling at him.

“Ah! There you are,” Kíli said. “I need your help. I need something to cheer Fíli up—make him feel normal again. Like a game, or maybe some music. Yes! Music—do you have a fiddle? Or even two fiddles?”

“Whoa, slow down, my friend!” Tom laughed, holding up his hands. “I have plenty of musical instruments that you may borrow—fiddles and harps and flutes and clarinets, drums and tambourines—”

“Fiddles will be just fine,” Kíli said. “Fíli and I both play.”

“Follow me,” Tom said. He led him down the corridor to a room that was full of instruments, as Tom had promised—some that Kíli recognized and others that he didn’t. Soon Kíli had a fiddle and bow in each hand, and after a quick but polite thank you, he returned to the living room. He crashed onto the couch excitedly.

“Watch out, you loon,” Fíli said, laughing. “What have you got?”

Kíli grinned wide at the sound of his brother’s laughter. “Here,” he said. “I got you something to pass the time.”

Fíli’s eyes widened as they settled upon the beautiful instruments in Kíli’s hands. “Where did you—?”

“Tom let me borrow them,” he said. “Here, take one. Let’s play—it’s been forever.”

“Kíli, I don’t know—”

“You said you felt like everything was different,” Kíli said. “Did you forget how to play?” He raised an eyebrow playfully at his brother.

Fíli took a fiddle from his hand and tucked it under his chin; then he snatched one of the bows and held it in position. He looked up at Kíli expectantly.

“You start,” Kíli said.

Fíli began a lively tune—a duet, one that Kíli knew well. He waited for his turn and then joined in. As the music came alive, he looked up at Fíli; his brother was smiling unabashedly, though his brow was creased—whether it was focus or pain, Kíli could not tell. However, Fíli continued to play as the music gained momentum, and soon the two of them were fighting laughter as they struggled to keep the beat. They finished the song together perfectly, and Fíli dropped the fiddle onto his lap and laughed breathily, placing one hand over his stomach.

“That was good,” he said. “That was… it hurt, but it was good.”

Kíli joined in with his brother’s laughter, dropping his head onto Fíli’s shoulder. Fíli ruffled his hair.

“Shall we do another one?” Kíli said, raising his fiddle back up.

“You play, I’ll listen,” Fíli said. “I’ve got to rest still.”

Kíli nodded and played a few notes absentmindedly, trying to think of a solo song to play.

“And Kíli?”

Kíli lowered his bow and looked at his brother. Fíli smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling and his blue eyes sparkling.

“Thank you.”


	29. Homeward Bound

Four days had passed in Tom and Goldberry’s home, and the strange couple had been true to their word—Fíli and Kíli had been well cared for. Fíli seemed to be mending well, as far as Kíli could tell; then again, Fíli would not let Kíli see the wound, insisting that his interference was not necessary. After Kíli insisted, Fíli had snapped at him, and Kíli had retreated, subdued; he had had enough of Fíli’s bad temper for a while, and he would rather not incite him to anger if it could be helped.

Still, he could not help himself from staying close to Fíli; the previous few weeks had been enough separation for him. For the most part, Fíli had not minded Kíli’s company, as his cheerful little brother was often able to distract him from the harrowing guilt Kíli knew he still felt. He could see it in Fíli’s eyes when the blond thought that he wasn’t looking, or in the moments when their conversation strayed too close to what had happened. Some incidents were worse than others; sometimes, Kíli could pull Fíli out of it with a word, or a touch, or a smile; other times, it took many words or a long embrace to bring Fíli back from the throes of pain and tears.

Those were the times Kíli hated.

Besides those moments, however, Fíli was indeed on the mend, and it was time for his stitches to come out. Kíli stood beside the bed anxiously, and Fíli looked up at his little brother affectionately.

“Kíli, I will be _fine_ ,” he said. “You don’t need to hover.”

Kíli made a small sound of protest. “I’m not hovering, I’m just—”

“Kíli,” Fíli said. He smiled. “You’re hovering. Don’t worry about me. Go find something to do for a while. I’ll be all right here.”

“But—”

“Kíli, _go_ ,” said Fíli. “Please stop worrying.”

Kíli straightened and frowned, but secretly, he felt relieved. All this hovering and worrying was difficult; he couldn’t help it, but he knew Fíli didn’t like it. “All right,” he said. “I’ll find something to do. I’ll… I’ll go find Tom.”

With that, he dashed out of the room. He could leave Fíli alone for a few minutes. He was in good hands with Goldberry. He would be fine.

Tom, however, was nowhere to be found. Kíli searched through the halls and in several rooms that he dared to go in; he knocked on closed doors; he even took a turn around the house, but he could not find his jolly host. With a sigh of defeat, he turned back out of the sunshine and back into the house. Surely Goldberry was done by now—maybe he could convince Fíli to play fiddles with him again.

He wandered back down the long corridor to the bedroom, taking his time; he was in no hurry. As he approached the door, he heard his brother’s voice. A phrase caught his attention.

“That’s why I can’t tell him.”

Kíli stopped and pulled himself back from the entrance, taking a few quiet steps back and listening carefully. Fíli continued to speak.

“He doesn’t know _how_ to take care of me—and he doesn’t need to know. It isn’t his responsibility.”

Kíli frowned at these words. It was true that he didn’t know how to take care of his brother, but he disagreed with Fíli about the rest. He clearly _did_ need to know how to take care of Fíli—these past few weeks had proven so. What if Fíli got hurt again—especially if they were out alone? Who would help him?

“Can’t tell him what?” said Goldberry. There was silence, and Kíli took a step closer to the door, wincing when the floorboard beneath his feet creaked slightly.

“That it hurts,” said Fíli. “It still hurts—a lot. It hurts to move, to sit, to stand, to walk—even to breathe, to be quite honest. I don’t want to do anything but lie still.”

Kíli’s mouth dropped open as the rest of him froze. Fíli had been hiding _this_ from him? Not just a twinge here or there, or some soreness—but he could barely _move_? Why would he keep that a secret? Part of him was moved with pity, but another part of him burned with anger. How was he supposed to trust that Fíli would be well enough to go home if he would not tell him the truth about how he felt?

As quietly as he could, Kíli backed away from the bedroom door and snuck down the hall into the kitchen. He sat heavily in a chair at the table and folded his arms on the table, dropping his chin onto them and staring out into nothing. For a while he sat alone, brooding; eventually, Tom skipped into the kitchen, humming cheerfully—and only further fouling Kíli’s mood. He continued to stare straight ahead, glowering.

“Hullo, young Kíli!” Tom cried. He slapped a hand on the young dwarf’s back, and Kíli jumped and looked up sullenly at his host. Tom smiled down at him.

“What is the matter, friend?” asked Tom.

“It’s Fíli,” Kíli said. “He’s hiding things from me. Hiding how much pain he’s in.”

“He does not wish to burden you,” said Goldberry, emerging from the hallway. “He says it is—”

“Not my responsibility, I know,” Kíli interrupted. “But how are we supposed to go home if I don’t know when he’ll be able to leave?” He sighed. “I hate that he thinks he has to hide the truth from me.”

“Much as you have done to him,” said Goldberry placidly. She watched him with calm eyes.

Speechless for a moment, Kíli stared at Goldberry with wide eyes. He stammered out, “Th-that’s different. That has nothing to do with going home. I can’t tell him that—the guilt would destroy him. I can’t do that to him.”

“Talk to him, then,” said Tom. “You cannot sort out anything if you do not try.”

Kíli grimaced. The idea of confronting Fíli about his lies was not appealing at all, but his concern for his brother’s well-being was certainly reason enough to do it anyway. He looked back and forth between Tom and Goldberry for a moment, gathering his courage.

“All right,” he said. “I’ll go talk to him.” He rose from his seat and made his way back to the bedroom, where Fíli sat with one hand over his healing wound. He removed it quickly as the younger dwarf entered.

“Kíli,” he said casually. “I thought you were out with Tom.”

“There was nothing to do,” Kíli said. “How’s the wound looking?”

“Fine,” Fíli said. “It’s healing, anyway.”

Kíli nodded and sat down on his own bed. “And how’s it feeling?”

“It’s all right,” Fíli said, avoiding Kíli’s eye. “Getting better every day. In fact, I think we could start heading home soon.”

Kíli eyed Fíli critically and bit his lip. Did he really want to go into this now? Kíli may have been considered the “stubborn one”, but Fíli could be just as stubborn if he wanted to be. There was only one way this conversation could go.

“Are you sure?” he said.

“Of course,” said Fíli. “The sooner we get home, the better. I figure we could leave tomorrow—”

“No,” said Kíli.

Fíli straightened then, his gaze challenging. Kíli stared back, unfaltering; if he was to win this battle, he had to start strong. Not that anyone had ever questioned his will. He could win this.

“No?” Fíli said softly, but his voice was still every bit as challenging as his gaze.

“Definitely not tomorrow,” Kíli said. “You still need to heal.”

“I _told_ you, I’m doing much better,” Fíli protested. “We need to get home as soon as possible. Mum and Thorin must be worried sick.”

“You’re lying, Fíli,” Kíli said gently. Perhaps if he didn’t overreact, this would go over much better. “Please don’t lie to me.”

Fíli’s eyes widened and his brow furrowed as he stared at his little brother. “What are you talking about?”

“Fíli, you were stabbed in the stomach. You almost died,” said Kíli. “It hasn’t even been a week. Do you really expect me to believe that you are well enough to take a week’s journey back home?”

“Kíli,” said Fíli, leaning forward. His grimace was not missed by his brother. “I don’t think you realize how _serious_ this is. We have to get back. Given the circumstances in which we left—”

“I don’t _care_ about the circumstances, Fee—I care about making sure _you_ make it back in once piece,” Kíli argued. “What is the point in making the return journey if you can barely walk?”

“I can walk,” Fíli said, gaining volume. “I’ll be _fine_. I _told_ you, I’m getting—”

“Stop lying!” Kíli countered. “Why are you lying to me, Fíli? There is _no_ reason—”

“I’m not—”

“I heard you, Fíli!” Kíli shouted. “I heard you talking to Goldberry. I know you’re still in pain. You said it hurts even to _breathe_. Go on, deny it.”

Fíli stared wide-eyed at Kíli, his mouth opening and closing as he stammered.

“You were listening—why would—what—”

“Yes, I was listening,” said Kíli. “Fíli, I am trying to make sure you’re all right.”

“That’s not your job,” Fíli snapped.

“I heard you say that, too,” said Kíli. “But I don’t care what you think. You’ve taken care of me my whole life, and now it’s my turn to do the same.”

“And _I’m_ telling _you_ that’s not your job!” Fíli shouted. “You weren’t supposed to hear that. I didn’t tell you for a _reason_ , Kíli, and this is it! Now _leave me alone_!”

Kíli stopped talking then. He frowned, blinking rapidly, and looked at his big brother sadly.

“That’s what you sounded like before,” he said quietly.

It was Fíli’s turn to be silent now. His chin quivered, and he looked down. The brothers sat quietly for several moments; Fíli dropped his head into his hands.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, Kíli—I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

 _Oh, no,_ Kíli thought. _I shouldn’t have said that. Why did I say that?_

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” he started, but he trailed off, watching Fíli curl onto his side, facing away from him. He sighed, his insides turning with guilt. _Now you’ve done it._ Fíli did not respond; he lay still, curled up with his face in his hands. Kíli wrung his hands.

“F-Fíli,” he said, but still Fíli did not move. He pressed his lips together.

This conversation had not gone the way he wanted at all.

* * *

 “At least a week.”

“Tomorrow.”

“That’s quite a difference, Fíli.”

“All right. Two days.”

Kíli sighed and eyed Fíli, who stood with crossed arms and a determined visage. Kíli had let the topic drop until the next day, and still Fíli was insisting that they needed to leave right away, even though he knew that Kíli was aware of how much pain he was in. Nothing Kíli said seemed to be able to change his mind.

“Five days?” he ventured. It was worth a try.

“Kíli, you’re not _thinking_ ,” Fíli argued. “We _have_ to get home.”

“What difference does it make how soon that is?” Kíli countered. “What is going to change if we leave tomorrow or a week from now?”

“Our mother’s peace,” said Fíli evenly, his gaze severe. Kíli squirmed. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that his mother must be frantic, but he didn't want to think on it. Fíli’s well-being was the priority right now.

“You always think of everyone else first,” he muttered, dropping his eyes to the floor. He heard Fíli chuckle.

“That’s why I’m the big brother and you’re the little brat,” said Fíli. “You’ve never _had_ to think on such things.”

Kíli sighed and looked back up at Fíli. “Three days?”

Fíli considered for a moment and then nodded. “All right. Three days.”

“But if that wound is still hurting you—”

“We’re going anyway.”

Kíli rolled his eyes. For once, Fíli was not backing down, no matter how stubborn he was. He wondered how many battles his brother had let him win out of laziness rather than a weaker will. He had bought them three days, anyway. Hopefully that was enough time for Fíli to get a better handle on movement without pain.

The days passed quickly in the house of Tom Bombadil, with plenty of merriment and good food and drink. Tom told them many fascinating things about the world they lived in, and Kíli had wild dreams about the wonders he had been told. Fíli, too, seemed to be enjoying himself. He still had his moments of guilt, but he learned to control himself, becoming more and more like the Fíli that Kíli had always known.

Finally the day came for Fíli and Kíli to leave. Kíli watched Fíli like a hawk throughout the morning, watching for signs of unease, but Fíli was either feeling better, as he claimed, or he was getting very good at hiding his pain. They packed up their things, their packs laden with gifts of new clothing and first aid materials as well. The food had been packed away in saddlebags on the ponies Tom had offered to them.

“Just let them loose when you get home,” he had said. “Tom’s ponies know their way home.”

Tom went with them for a while in the Old Forest, helping them to the border, and Kíli was grateful. He remembered the dark oppressiveness of this forest on his previous trek, and though Fíli tried to look calm, Kíli could see how nervous he was once he saw the wild commingling trees. The ponies took them calmly through the forest as if they were in a bright meadow; Kíli could not help but think that they were only so calm because Tom was there. _He_ was glad Tom was there. Much as he had felt before, the darkness seemed to flee before and behind them with Tom nearby. Kíli had gotten used to this comforting presence, and he wondered and feared what it would be like once Tom said farewell.

“Here is where I leave you,” said Tom as they reached the daylight at the edge of the forest. “Take care of my ponies! And may fortune be with you, sons of Durin!”

Fíli and Kíli said their farewells, thanking Tom so profusely that he laughed uproariously and told them to be on their way before they lost the sunlight. They obediently went on their way, heading for the opening in the Hedge that would bring them to Buckland; this time, they were going to take the Great East Road back home. They had no need for secrecy now.

“I feel naked,” Fíli muttered as the passed the short distance between the Old Forest and the Hedge.

Kíli looked at him sidelong. “Why do you say that?”

“I’ve got _one_ knife,” Fíli complained. “I might as well have nothing.”

“Fíli, we’re going through the Shire,” laughed Kíli. “What could possibly happen?”

“We won’t be in the Shire once we get past Michel Delving,” Fíli warned. “And then we have to head north off the Road, unless your plan was to go to the Grey Havens and sail into the West with the Elves.”

Kíli curled his lip at the mention of Elves. “Of course not,” he said. “But I have my bow and my sword and my own knife, and you’ve got yours. We’ll be fine.”

“We weren’t fine on the way here,” said Fíli quietly.

Kíli shrank and bowed his head as a wave of guilt crashed over him. If only he had not been so reckless…

“No, Kíli, I’m not blaming you,” said Fíli quickly. “I’m just used to having more weapons, is all.”

“It’s fine,” Kíli said. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Any other impossible tasks you’d like to ask of me today?” Fíli quipped. Kíli looked up at his brother, who was grinning slyly; Kíli chuckled, and Fíli followed suit.

“No, that should be all,” he replied. They both laughed. Fíli’s laugh turned into a cough, and he gripped his stomach tightly; Kíli brought his pony closer to Fíli’s, concerned, but Fíli waved him off.

“It’s fine,” Fíli said.

“Fíli…”

“Well, not _fine_ , but I can handle it,” said Fíli. “Tom said it would hurt for a while. A long while. You can’t rush to my rescue every time it hurts, Kee. You wouldn’t be able to do anything else.”

Kíli frowned, but he nodded. Tom had said the same to him. It was hard to watch his brother suffer, especially when it had been his fault, but at the same time, he knew—he had been told many times—that Fíli did not want to be watched over like a child. Truth be told, a part of him was relieved.

They finally approached the Hedge, and Kíli hopped off his pony and peered out into Buckland. While their journey no longer had to be a secret, it was always wise to avoid creating a stir in the Shire. Folk there would talk about any uncanny incident for weeks, months, or even years, and Kíli would hate to be one more reason for hobbits to distrust dwarves passing through their lands. Ideally, they would come out of the Old Forest without being seen by a hobbit. Once they were clear of the Hedge, they could make themselves known.

“All clear,” he called to Fíli, hopping back on his pony. They passed through the gate in the Hedge without incident, as planned, and continued on their way.

“We should stop at an inn,” said Fíli. “You wanted to on the way here. I think we deserve a good hobbit’s brew.”

"I agree," said Kíli. “But let’s stop and see the Bracegirdles first. I promised Bella and Eva I would see her on the way back.”

Fíli shrank in his saddle. “I’d rather not,” he said. “That Adric fellow didn’t seem to like us very much.”

“Pah! Are you afraid of a grouchy little hobbit?” said Kíli. “Who cares what he thinks?”

“Tongues will wag,” Fíli said, looking very uncomfortable. Kíli furrowed his brow.

“Once again, who cares?” he said. “The stuffy git is too worked up about his little reputation anyway. We’re not staying the night—just going to say hello, maybe have a meal.”

“Reputation can be important,” said Fíli.

Kíli pulled his pony in front of Fíli’s and stopped; Fíli was forced to halt, and he looked at Kíli, bewildered.

“What is the real problem, Fíli?” said Kíli.

“I just told you,” Fíli said, looking away. He moved to lead his pony around his brother, but Kíli just got in his way again. Fíli looked up at his brother, his eyes flashing.

“You’re being awfully pushy lately,” he said. “What’s come over you?”

“It’s more about what has come over _you_ ,” Kíli replied. “Fíli, you can’t hide from everyone forever. You have to face people. Talk to people. You have to move on. You’re… you’re letting what has happened in the past control you.”

“Wise words,” Fíli muttered, still avoiding Kíli’s eye.

“Mum’s said it before—about Uncle,” said Kíli. “She said he lets the past control him, too. And you’ve seen how he can get. Please, Fíli… don’t turn into that.”

“Don’t speak like that about Thorin,” Fíli snapped. “He deserves our respect. He does the best he can.”

“All the same, Mum’s right,” Kíli argued. “You may want to deny it, but you have seen the sadness in her eyes, too. Are you going to do that to her, too? To me?”

Fíli frowned, his eyes wide and focused on Kíli now. Kíli thought he saw his chin quiver.

“I…” he said, trailing off. He sniffed. “I’m just… so…” He stopped and looked down.

“So what?” said Kíli.

“I’m ashamed, Kíli,” Fíli said, his voice cracking. “What I’ve done… what I’ve said… how people have seen me… they’re going to remember that.” His voice trailed off into a tearful whisper. “I’m so ashamed. I just want to hide away and never come out again.”

Kíli blinked. _Now you’ve done it again,_ he told himself. _What are you going to do now?_

“Fíli, it’s just a couple of hobbits,” he said. “Consider it a practice run. Before we get home. What do you say?”

Fíli shook his head, and Kíli sighed.

“Come on, Fee,” he said. “If anyone is going to be kind and accepting, it’s Bella and Eva Bracegirdle. They’re the least of your worries, honestly. They’ll be happy to see you.”

After a long moment’s deliberation, Fíli sighed deeply and nodded. “All right,” he said to the ground. “Let’s go, then.”

Kíli grinned proudly and pulled his pony back into the lead, feeling an overwhelming urge to give his brother a hug.


	30. Secrets

"How long until we reach an inn?"

Kíli looked back at Fíli. He was slouched in his saddle, his face pulled into a deep frown, and he seemed to be forcing himself to breathe evenly. Kíli stopped and waited for his brother to catch up.

"Are you all right?" he asked, looking Fíli over again. His hands were gripping the reins so tightly that his knuckles were turning white, and now that he was closer, Kíli could hear how strained his breathing was.

"I'll be all right," Fíli said. "As long as there is an inn close by. I think… I think I need to lie down."

"I can see that," Kíli said. "Well, come on. Buckland's not that big. There must be one close by."

They continued down the road, and within half an hour, they found an inn along the way. Kíli hopped down from his saddle and winced as he watched his brother do the same with a pained grunt. Fíli rested his forehead against the saddle with closed eyes.

"I'll get us a room," Kíli said. "You find a seat and sit down. I'll come back for you."

Fíli nodded into the saddle, and Kíli tied up his pony and went inside. The hobbits in the tavern looked up as he entered; instantly, the conversation quieted down. Kíli ducked his head and smiled kindly at the hobbits, but many glared suspiciously. With a deep breath, Kíli made his way to the counter. A hobbit with blond hair and bright green eyes stood there; to Kíli's surprise, he sported some downy hair on his chin, a very uncommon trait among his kind. Kíli touched his own short whiskers self-consciously.

"Greetings, master dwarf," said the hobbit politely. "We don't see many of your kind in these parts. What can I do for you?"

"I need a room for the night," Kíli replied. "For two. And we have two ponies." He looked around at the quiet hobbits. "We won't be a nuisance, I promise—we just need a place to rest our heads."

The hobbit eyed Kíli up and down, but he seemed to find nothing amiss. He pulled a key from a cubbyhole behind him and laid it on the counter.

"Two silver pence," he said. "And the name's Doderic, if you'll be needing anything."

"Thank you very much," Kíli said, pulling the required money from his pocket. "Perhaps we'll also give your tavern here some business, if the others don't mind."

"Business is business," said Doderic, "and you're in Buckland, Mister…"

"Kíli."

"Mister Kíli. West of the Brandywine you might have more trouble, but once they see you're no trouble to them, you should be all right. I'll send out my daughter Hanna to take care of your ponies."

"Thank you," said Kíli, scooping up the keys. "And where is it?"

"Down the hall there, third on the left," Doderic said. "Two beds."

"That'll do just fine," Kíli said. He dashed back outside and found Fíli sitting on a bench outside, bent over; his elbows rested on his knees, and he held his forehead in his hands. His blond waves cascaded over his fingertips, shielding his face from view. Kíli knelt down before him and placed a hand on his shoulder, and Fíli looked up at him wearily.

"We've got a room," he said. "Come on, let's go."

With a groan, Fíli grabbed onto the arm of the bench and started to stand. When Kíli saw how badly his body shook with the effort, he grabbed his other arm and pulled it around his neck.

"I don't need help," Fíli grumbled.

"Shut up, you," said Kíli goodnaturedly. "Accept help when it's offered."

"Fine," said Fíli, leaning heavily into his little brother. Kíli helped him to the door.

"Can you walk from here?" he said. "The hobbits might get frightened or suspicious if they see me supporting you."

"I'll make it," said Fíli, grabbing on to the door frame. "Let's just get to the room, all right?"

Kíli opened the door and allowed Fíli through; once again, the tavern quieted, but not as much as before—most of the hobbits kept their eyes to themselves and only lowered their voices. Kíli glanced at Fíli. He was looking around at the hobbits nervously, but he seemed relieved that most of them pretended not to notice the strange travelers in their presence. He kept close to the wall, using it to pull himself along slowly. Kíli could see him shaking, but he resisted reaching out to help, knowing it would only turn more heads. In the Shire, the less talk about them, the better. Just the fact that they were dwarves in Buckland was enough to give these folk something to talk about for a week.

They made it down the hall eventually, and Kíli unlocked their door and held it open for his brother. As soon as the door closed behind them, Fíli leaned against the wall heavily with a  _thud_.

"Kíli," he said wearily, holding out his arm. Kíli immediately pulled the pack off his brother's back and dropped it to the floor. Then ducked his head under Fíli's arm, taking his brother's hand and wrapping his other arm around Fíli's waist. He led him to one of the beds and helped him sit, wincing at the groan that left Fíli.

"I  _told_  you we should have waited longer," Kíli said.

Fíli said nothing, but the glare he cast said quite enough. Kíli pressed his lips together and helped Fíli lie down, pulling his feet onto the bed. He pulled off his own pack and dropped it by his own bed.

"Are you hungry?" he said.

"Aye, but I'm not moving," said Fíli quietly, staring up at the ceiling. "I've had enough of moving for one day."

Kíli bit back another  _I told you so_  and said, "I'll go down to the tavern and get us both something to eat. You rest, all right?"

Before Kíli had even finished his sentence, Fíli's eyes were closed. Kíli looked him over with a sigh and fiddled with the key in his hand. Then he stepped out of the room and meandered back down the hall to the tavern, keeping his eyes away from the curious hobbits around him. He stepped straight up to the bar and sat down at an empty stool.

"Excuse me," he said as politely as he could.

A dark-haired hobbit with brown skin and rosy cheeks turned to face him. She smiled, though her dark eyes showed her suspicion.

"Hello, sir," she said. "My name is Celandine. What can I get for you?"

"Just something I can carry back to my room," he said. "Some bread and cheese, I suppose."

"We've got a good beef stew prepared as well," said Celandine. "I can have someone bring it to you, if you'd like."

Kíli considered this for a moment. It couldn't hurt, and a good stew—especially one made by hobbits—was not something to pass up. He nodded.

"If you'll bring the bread and cheese, too, I'll get a couple of ales as well," he said.

"Right away, sir," she said, pulling two pint glasses from below the counter. She started pouring the first ale and turned to look at him again.

"Strange to have dwarves about these parts," she said. "And so soon after the others, too."

Kíli felt a pang in his chest—of panic or surprise, he did not know—and he straightened in his seat.

"Others?" he said, attempting to keep his voice even. "What others?"

"A couple of dwarves came through, probably about a week ago," she said, setting one pint on the counter. Kíli pulled it toward himself, his eyes glued on Celandine. "They were asking if any of their kind had been seen, come to think of it… two young dwarves…"

Kíli's grip tightened on the pint in his hand. "Did they say anything else?"

She nodded. "One with brown hair, one with blond hair," she said. She eyed Kíli sidelong. "Sound like anyone you know?"

Kíli swallowed and looked down. "I think we both know who they were talking about," he said in a low voice. Celandine placed another pint on the counter and leaned in close.

"They seemed pretty concerned," she said quietly. "One of them was almost in tears, I think. Why did you leave them? They wouldn't say."

Kíli ignored her question. Anything else he said would be the talk of the town. "What did they look like?" he asked.

"Well, they looked very much alike," she said, looking disappointed. "Might've been brothers. Long dark hair and blue eyes. Fine clothes."

That would be his uncle and his mother. Dwarf women often dressed as men while traveling, and her beard certainly would confuse many that were not accustomed to their kind as well. The one near to tears must have been his mother. He felt a bolt of guilt shoot through him so strongly that he bent over, wincing.

"Whatever sent you away, I think you should return to them," Celandine said authoritatively.

"Thank you for your input," Kíli snapped, a little too harshly. Celandine flinched, and he sighed, dropping his shoulders. "I'm sorry. I will. We will. We're on our way back now."

"Good," said Celandine crisply. "And that'll be twelve coppers, please."

Kíli nodded and pulled out twelve copper pence, handing them to Celandine without meeting her eye. He took his two ales and stood, nodding again in thanks and farewell, and headed back to his room. Clumsily he attempted to open the door without spilling any of his drink, and he almost succeeded, splashing only a small amount on his shirt.

"I've got drinks," he said, letting the door shut behind him. "Thought you'd like one, too."

"I'd love one," Fíli said from the bed without moving. Kíli set the two pints on the table and made his way over to the bed; he sat down, and Fíli opened his eyes and looked up at him.

"I've got to sit up for this, don't I?" he said wearily.

Kíli chuckled. "Unless you want ale all over your face, I'd recommend it," he said. "I've got food coming, too. Here, I'll help you."

Fíli groaned as Kíli helped him into a sitting position, and Kíli shook his head and sighed.

"Don't say it," Fíli warned.

"I didn't say anything," said Kíli innocently. "You thought it all on your own."

"Thanks, Mum."

Kíli laughed and brought Fíli his ale, which the blond accepted gratefully. For a few moments they sat in silence, enjoying the good brew.

"So," said Fíli, "in the morning—"

"We'll talk about that tomorrow," Kíli interrupted. He took another swig of his ale as Fíli chuckled. His laugh turned into a strained cough, but he waved off Kíli's concerned glance.

"You're getting far too bossy for a little brother," Fíli said. "I think I rather liked when you did everything I said."

"Ha! As if that ever happened," Kíli crowed. "You've always gone along with whatever I wanted to do. Don't deny it."

"Only if I wanted to," Fíli argued. He gestured at Kíli with his mug of ale and grinned slyly. "I remember plenty of times I convinced  _you_  to do something else."

"I don't remember that at all," Kíli retorted.

"Well, you wouldn't," Fíli said haughtily, taking a casual sip from his mug. "I have a secret weapon I use against your stubbornness."

Kíli lowered his ale and stared at Fíli, narrowing his eyes. "What do you mean by that?"

Fíli raised his eyebrows and looked down at his ale, taking another sip and shaking his head slightly. Kíli's eyes widened, and he punched Fíli in the shoulder lightly. Ale splashed into Fíli's face, and he shouted out in surprise and looked up at Kíli, his braided mustache dripping. Kíli burst out laughing and hopped off the bed before Fíli could retaliate.

"Why, you—you little…" Fíli said, wiping at his mustache and beard with his sleeve. "If I could, I would chase you to the Blue Mountains and back!"

A knock came at the door just then, and Kíli pranced over and opened it, still tittering. Two young hobbits, a girl and a boy, stood there with the food Kíli had requested on trays. He opened the door further and gestured to the small table in the room.

"You can leave it there," he said, reaching into his pocket. He handed a copper coin to each child. "Thank you very much."

The two hobbits did as they were told and skipped away with their copper coins in hand. Kíli wondered briefly if tipping was common in the Shire, but he shrugged it off and carried Fíli's food over to the bed.

"They had beef stew," he said, setting the tray on Fíli's lap. "Thought you'd like it."

"I'd love it," Fíli said, reaching for the spoon eagerly. He sent a halfhearted glare in Kíli's direction. "I won't forget what you just did, though."

"Shut up and eat your soup," Kíli retorted, but he could not suppress a proud grin.

* * *

A night's rest did a world of good for Fíli's sore abdomen, and they were on the road again by late morning. Fíli had insisted on leaving earlier, but Kíli would not hear a word of it, insisting Fíli rested at least until he stopped looking up at his brother with half-lidded eyes. Once again, Fíli had grumbled about Kíli's bossy ways, but he was far too tired to protest much more than that.

The sun was shining down on the dwarves as they made their journey, but a gentle wind blew, keeping the heat at bay. A few pale clouds hovered overhead. They made it out of Buckland and into the Northfarthing by late afternoon, stopping for rest under a large willow and eating a bit of the packed food from their saddlebags. A few more hours put them close to the Bracegirdles' home, and that was when Fíli started getting nervous.

"Kíli, this seems so far out of the way," he said. "Is this necessary?"

"You already said you would go," Kíli responded. "It's too late to back out now. We're almost there."

Fíli probably grumbled something in return, but Kíli ignored him, passing it off as nerves and grouchiness due to pain.

Soon they were at the Bracegirdles' door, and Kíli hopped off his pony and handed the reins to Fíli. He raised his fist to knock on the door and paused, praying that Adric would not be the one to greet them—and, most likely, turn them away. After a few moments, he screwed up his courage and moved to knock.

Before his knuckles made contact with the door, however, it swung open, seemingly by itself. It was not until Kíli was almost knocked over by a force against his legs that he realized what had happened.

"Mister Kíli, you came back!" Lily cried. "I wanted you to come back!"

"Well, here I am," Kíli laughed, patting the small hobbit child on the back. "I've come back. And I brought Mister Fíli, too!"

Lily gasped and looked past Kíli, searching. She spotted Fíli on his pony and waved frantically; Fíli waved back halfheartedly, and Lily's grin grew. She tugged at Kíli's hand.

"Come in!" she said.

"Lily, get your mum," he said. "Or maybe one of your brothers. We need someone to take our ponies."

Lily nodded and ran off, her feet pitter-pattering against the long rug that ran down the hallway. Kíli turned back and helped Fíli off his pony, frowning as Fíli's face twisted up in pain. Kíli patted him on the back, and Fíli grabbed hold of him and pulled him closer, swinging an arm over his neck.

"I don't care anymore," said Fíli quietly. "I don't care what it looks like. Just help me walk."

Kíli swallowed and nodded, taking hold of the ponies' reins with his free hand. A few moments later, Bella ran out to greet them, accompanied by her two boys, Andy and Aldo. They both said hello briefly, looking especially pleased to see the two dwarves again. Then they took the ponies from Kíli and led them away. Kíli smiled as he watched them go. Aldo said something quietly to Andy, and they both laughed.

"Well, Eva told me you would come back, but I wasn't sure that I believed her!" Bella said, looking over them both fondly. She glanced from Kíli to Fíli and frowned slightly. Fíli avoided her eye.

"I made a promise," Kíli said. "And Fíli—well, Bella, may I introduce you formally to my brother Fíli." He wrapped his now-free hand around Fíli's middle. "Fíli, you remember Bella, don't you?"

"At your service," Fíli muttered, bowing his head politely. His grip on Kíli's shoulder tightened.

"I'm sorry, I should have invited you in already," Bella said. "You seem exhausted, Fíli. Please come in and sit down."

"I would appreciate that very much, thank you," Fíli said wearily. He and Kíli followed Bella into the smial and to the parlor, where Kíli helped his brother sit. Fíli sighed in relief and rested a hand over his stomach; Kíli sat beside him, and Bella sat down in a chair across from the two brothers.

"Where is Eva?" Kíli asked.

"In her bedroom, most likely," Bella replied. "I'm sure Lily has already informed her of your arrival, or she will be informed soon."

"I hope she didn't get in too much trouble for helping us," said Fíli, looking up at their host. "I wouldn't have made it without her."

Bella grinned proudly. "She was in a bit of trouble with her papa, but she explained it to him. He still didn't like it, but when he heard you two were princes… well, that quieted him down a bit." She chuckled. "And you didn't even think to tell us, Kíli!"

"Well, we're not quite what people think of when they think of princes, are we?" said Kíli. "We usually only flaunt it when those of our own kind need reminding of who will rule over them one day. Don't we, Fee?"

Fíli grinned sheepishly. He had taught Kíli to flaunt his rank long ago, when some other dwarves had thought it great fun to bully him, making him a spectacle for all the other younger dwarves. With the help and support of his family, Kíli had come out on top, reminding the other boys of their place. People had seldom questioned his stance since.

"Forgive me for appearing too bold, but did it work?" Bella asked, leaning forward. "What you set out to do. It worked, didn't it?"

"Aye, it worked," said Kíli with a smile. His smile faded when he looked over at Fíli, who was staring at the ground quietly. He put a hand on Fíli's shoulder.

"Kíli! Fíli!"

Kíli looked up to the doorway to see Eva standing there. She dashed forward, and Kíli rose to greet her. She crashed into him and hugged him warmly; Kíli laughed and returned the embrace. When she pulled back, she smiled up at Kíli and then turned her gaze to Fíli.

"How are you feeling, Fíli?" she said. "Better?"

"Better," Fíli replied, still staring at the ground. "Not perfect, but definitely better. Much better."

"You seem much better," Eva replied. "I am glad to see you again. I was worried about you. About both of you, actually."

"Well, without you, Fíli probably wouldn't be here at all," said Kíli. "We made it just in time. That wound was infected, you see."

"Oh, my!" said Bella with a gasp. She looked at the two of them compassionately. "I am so glad we could help you boys. And if you will accept our help again, I would like to feed you and give you somewhere to sleep for tonight. And breakfast in the morning, of course. I imagine you are on your way home."

Fíli looked up suddenly. "Oh, no," he said, "we couldn't possibly—"

"Please, I insist," Bella interrupted. She raised an eyebrow. "Unless you're telling me you want to hop back up on your pony and continue on your way."

Fíli's eyes widened, and he shook his head quickly. "You've convinced me, Bella. We'll stay here."

"I'll prepare a room for you!" said Eva, jumping up. "The same one as before." She dashed off to her self-appointed duty, and Bella smiled after her. Then her gaze returned to the dwarves in front of her.

"Rest easy tonight," she said. "We'll take good care of you here."

* * *

The evening passed by quickly in the Bracegirdles' home. Fíli and Kíli recounted their time with Tom Bombadil and Goldberry to a captive audience of all six hobbit children, Bella, and even Adric. Though Kíli had more tales to tell, as he was actually able to move around, Fíli pitched in as much as he could, correcting Kíli's embellishments and laughing at some of Kíli's stories he had not heard, either. The hobbits offered them two meals, and Fíli and Kíli accepted both gratefully. Kíli thought he would miss hobbit cooking when they finally went home. Throughout the evening, Fíli steadily came more and more alive, responding to questions and even telling jokes to the younger hobbits. Kíli's spirits rose as he watched his brother's eyes light up with joy. Only once or twice did they dim with memories, and even then, he was easily pulled back into the present by a question or another joke.

After a while, though, Kíli could tell that Fíli was feeling more uncomfortable than he was willing to share with their hosts. He excused the both of them to bed, catching in his peripherals Fíli's grateful glance.

They found their beds neatly made and their packs already placed in the room, and Kíli smiled. These hobbits were far kinder than he had ever expected. He helped Fíli into nightclothes and into bed and then prepared for bed himself; then, with barely another word, he climbed into bed and closed his eyes. They had not traveled all day long, and Fíli had been spared a few more hours' riding, but the plentiful food and conversation had been enough to exhaust the both of them.

Kíli fell asleep quickly in the soft bed and was soon dreaming of pleasant things. He and Fíli were practicing with their weapons, both so skilled that neither could get the upper hand. They didn't mind, though—the fun was in the dance. They knew each other so well that one could always anticipate the move of the other; it was what made them a good team. Fighting back-to-back or side-by-side, they were nearly unstoppable.

Suddenly the scene changed. Instead of sparring happily with his brother, he was in the creek, kicking and gasping for breath and only getting water burning down his throat. He had the sensation of being in two places at once—both in the water and watching from above—and yet, wherever he was, he felt a harrowing sense of being unable to breathe.

Then real hands were on him, and Kíli jumped awake. Fíli stood over him, his face taut with concern; Kíli cried out in fear, his mind in a frenzy, and pulled away. Suddenly there was nothing beneath him and he was falling. He hit the ground hard, and his left side erupted with pain. He gasped soundlessly and curled into a ball; as soon as he was able, he rolled onto his hands and knees and touched his forehead to the floor. Fíli's back was on his hand in an instant.

"Kíli, what is the matter?" Fíli said. Kíli could hear the panic in his voice.

"Nothing, it's nothing," Kíli wheezed, his heart pounding hard. He willed his lungs to start working again.

"It's not nothing," Fíli argued. "What happened? Take a deep breath now."

 _I can't,_  Kíli thought, but he refused to say it out loud.

"I'm  _telling_  you, it's nothing," he said, pausing to gasp harshly.  _Damn it, body, start breathing._

"Don't tell me that when I can see it isn't true!" said Fíli, his hand resting heavier on his brother's back. "Just  _tell_  me—"

" _Nothing is wrong!_ " Kíli shouted, looking up at Fíli, panicked now.

Fíli jerked his hand back and stared at Kíli with wide eyes, and Kíli struggled to regain his breath to no avail. He still felt like he was drowning. Fíli's eyes drifted to his left side, and Kíli clapped a hand over it as a strange buzzing began to sound in his ears. His world went white for a moment.  _No. He can't know. He can never know._

"Kee…" Fíli breathed.

"No, no, nonono, Fíli, no, it's not—don't…" Kíli begged, his wheezing gaining in pitch now. But it was too late. Kíli could see it in his brother's eyes. He knew. He  _knew_ , and Kíli could not hide it any longer. Fíli crawled backward on the floor until he hit the wall, his eyes never breaking from Kíli's. The buzzing got louder in Kíli's ears as Fíli drew up his legs and filtered his hands into his hair, grabbing on tight and dropping his forehead onto his knees.

"Fíli," Kíli gasped. He crawled forward, closing the space between them, but Fíli kept his head down and sat unmoving. Kíli choked, and tears welled up in his eyes and began to fall in a moment.

"Fíli, please, look at me," he begged. The buzzing was deafening now, and Kíli could not draw in an adequate breath. Torrents of terror crashed through his body as the world closed in around him. Fíli knew. He couldn't breathe. Fíli  _knew_.

" _Look at me_!" he screamed, grabbing his brother's shoulders and shaking violently. Fíli's eyes slowly lifted, filled with immeasurable guilt. Kíli opened his mouth to speak again, but only a sick choking noise emerged. Guilt drained from Fíli's eyes as panic took its place.

"Kíli?" he said, his voice small and anxious.

Kíli could not respond. He couldn't do anything. He wheezed harshly, his fingers automatically locking into the fabric of Fíli's shirt. He felt cold. Everything was so  _loud_. Fíli pulled himself up and took Kíli's face in his hands.

"You need to breathe, Kee," he said, with a trembling voice. "Please, breathe."

Kíli shook his head and continued to wheeze. His diaphragm spasmed, fighting to pull air into his body, but Kíli felt as if he were still underwater. Fíli's grip tightened.

"Okay, listen to me," he said, his voice gaining in strength. "You're panicking, little brother. Don't think about me right now. Just think about  _you_. I need you to breathe in. Breathe in, Kíli."

Kíli did his best to do has his brother said, his eyes fixed on Fíli's. He drew in a grating breath, lifting his head slightly, but it did not seem to work.

"Try again," Fíli said, tears running down his own cheeks now. "Come on—you can do it. Breathe in."

Again Kíli attempted to breathe in, forcing his mind to focus only on what his big brother told him to do. A small amount of air made it into his lungs, and instantly his body started to relax. He could feel tears on his face, and his heart felt as if it was trying to pound out of his chest. He hummed tearfully as he let out his small breath.

"Good," Fíli said. "Now again. You can do this."

The air came in easier this time, and Kíli took in a fuller breath, stopping only when his side made him. Slowly he let it out, and Fíli nodded, a relieved smile on his lips. Kíli breathed again. In and out. Each breath was easier than the last, and finally, the wheezing died down completely. He could breathe again. He closed his eyes as the buzzing faded away, leaving the room silent. Fíli's forehead touched his, and Kíli began to weep, his body shaking with silent sobs. He felt one of Fíli's hands slide to the back of his head, and the other wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him in to a tight hug.

"Oh, Kíli," Fíli whispered.

Kíli did not reply. He couldn't. He pulled his arms out from between their bodies and wrapped them around his brother, allowing himself to sink completely and safely into his chest. How long they stayed that way, Kíli did not know; all he knew was that even though Fíli knew—even though his secret of so many years had been revealed—he had not felt so secure and safe in a long time.


	31. Home

For a long while, Fíli and Kíli rested on the floor, neither one willing to move. But after some time had passed, Kíli began to realize he was feeling rather uncomfortable. Unwilling to make Fíli feel unwanted or unneeded, he shifted himself carefully, trying to find a comfortable position; after shifting several times and being unable to find a good way to sit on the hard wooden floor, he decided to give up.

Just then, Fíli spoke.

"Kíli?"

Kíli shifted his head slightly. "Yes?"

"Are you uncomfortable?"

For a moment, Kíli said nothing. Of course Fíli noticed. Why wouldn't he notice?

"Yes," he said.

"So am I," said Fíli. He chuckled; the sound resonated through his chest into Kíli's ear. "Maybe we should get up."

Kíli chuckled as well and pulled himself up, groaning. He was  _so_  tired… all he wanted to do was curl up in bed and fall asleep. He pulled himself to his feet slowly and then held out his hands. Fíli took them and let out a strained noise as he pulled himself up with shaky arms. When he had finally gotten to his feet, he leaned on Kíli heavily.

Suddenly, he started laughing.

"What's so funny?" Kíli asked, confused, as Fíli continued to laugh, dropping his head into his brother's shoulder.

"Look at us," Fíli giggled. "Like a couple of old dwarves with aches and pains. What we must look like…"

Kíli chuckled. "Like Balin in the morning," he quipped, and Fíli laughed harder.

"Oi!" he said. "Don't say that in front of him. He'll challenge you to a fight!"

"I wouldn't dream of it," Kíli said. "He'd beat me in an instant." He helped Fíli over to his bed, and Fíli sat down slowly, grimacing. He looked up at Kíli with a concerned eye.

"Are you sure you'll be all right?" he said. "You won't… that's not going to happen again, is it?"

"Durin's beard, I hope not," said Kíli. He thought back to his horrible dream and winced. He never wanted to have that dream again. It was far too real.

"Kíli, what were you dreaming about?" Fíli said. "You were wheezing even before you woke up… and…" he paused and looked down at his hands. "You seemed so frightened."

"It was just a bad dream," Kíli said quickly. "I don't… remember what it was about. I just remember that it was bad."

Fíli looked back up at his little brother, one eyebrow raised skeptically. "Kíli, you know you can't lie to me," he said. "Best give up trying."

With a resigned sigh, Kíli walked over to his own bed and sat down. He leaned back on his hands and stared down at his toes, touching them together.

"I was drowning," he said softly. "In my dream. I was underwater and I—I couldn't get out." He looked back up at Fíli nervously, hoping that was enough; his brother would not meet his eye, but he was nodding lightly. Then Fíli leaned back, grimacing; Kíli hopped off his bed, but Fíli shook his head.

"I'll be fine," he whispered. "You rest, Kíli. Get some sleep." With that, he turned his back to his little brother, pulled his covers over his shoulders, and lay still.

For a few moments longer, Kíli stood, wavering; his chest felt tight, and as much as he longed to comfort his brother, he could think of nothing to say that would bring him any peace. Instead, he slipped back into his own bed and lay facing Fíli's back, watching him carefully.

"Good night, Fíli," he said.

Fíli did not speak; he only let out a shuddering sigh.

* * *

"Mister Kíli?"

Kíli opened his eyes at the sound of the small, familiar voice; a little face crowned with curls greeted him, and he smiled sleepily.

"Good morning, Lily," he said. "What is the time?"

"Breakfast time!" she said cheerfully. "Will you come and eat? I tried to ask Mister Fíli, but he won't wake up."

"Yes, he does that," Kíli said, sitting up and stretching. He let out an enormous yawn. His left side felt tight, and he felt a slight pinch, but nothing more. Lily giggled.

"Will you wake him?" she said.

Kíli looked sidelong at his slumbering brother and frowned. "Let's leave him to sleep. He isn't feeling well. I'm sure he will eat when he wakes up on his own."

"Okay!" said Lily cheerfully. She took hold of Kíli's hand and pulled, and Kíli hopped out of bed and allowed himself to be dragged along. "Come and eat! Come on!"

"All right, all right—I'm coming!" Kíli laughed, running his fingers through his surely wild hair. He shut the guest room door behind him and followed Lily down the hall. He could smell the breakfast before he could see it: eggs and sausage and some kind of baked treat, as well. His mouth watered. They turned the corner into the dining room, wherein the entire family was seated and already eating. Adric sat at one end of the table and Bella at the other, their children scattered between them; three empty seats remained.

"I got Mister Kíli!" Lily announced to her family. "Mister Fíli didn't want to wake up, though."

"I'm sorry, Kíli," said Bella with an apologetic smile. "Lily was just too excited to see you again—I hope you don't mind being woken up."

"I'm fine," said Kíli. "Fíli needs the sleep, though. It's a good thing he's not an easy riser."

"Lily, sit down, please," said Adric, pointing his fork at her seat. Lily obediently ran to her spot and climbed onto the small chair, sitting her bottom on a thick book and reaching for some food. Kíli took a seat in an empty chair between Andy and Angelica.

"What happened last night, Mister Kíli?" asked Molly from across the table. Her large eyes blinked innocently. "I heard someone shouting."

"Molly!" Eva scolded, elbowing her younger sister. "That isn't  _polite_. I'm sorry, Kíli—she's only eleven. She hasn't learned  _manners_  yet." She shot a cold look at Molly for emphasis, who avoided her sister's eye and stuffed a piece of sausage in her mouth.

"Just a bad dream," Kíli said, casting a glance at Bella and Adric, both of whom were watching him carefully. "Nothing more. Nothing to worry about."

"Must've been  _really_  bad," said Aldo, receiving an elbow from his elder brother. "You were really loud."

"That's enough, children," said Adric. "Eat your food. Breakfast is no time for prying questions, all right?"

Kíli cast Adric a grateful look, and Adric nodded; then his eyes wandered to the archway, and Kíli followed his gaze. Fíli was slowly making his way into the room, one hand pressed hard against the wall. Immediately Kíli jumped up.

"I'm so sorry," he said, grabbing his brother's arm and pulling it behind his neck. "I should have thought that you would need help."

"I'm fine," Fíli said, patting Kíli on the chest with his free hand. "I'm used to you not thinking." He grinned cheekily, glancing sidelong at his brother, and Kíli chuckled; then Fíli looked around at the hobbits seated at the table.

"Good morning," he said.

"Good morning," came a scattered chorus of hobbit voices. Bella and Eva smiled especially warmly at their elder guest, and Fíli smiled back. Happiness rose in Kíli's chest as he helped his brother to an empty seat next to Eva, and then he took his own seat again. For a few minutes, there was quiet as everyone ate; eventually, Bella broke the silence.

"So, gentlemen, is this the last we'll see of you?" she said.

"Hopefully not," said Kíli. "We should probably be on our way today, but we come through the Shire occasionally. We can stop by and see you, if you'd like." He cast a furtive glance at Adric, but the hobbit's visage bore no disdain or discontent. He smiled softly. "I'd like to come see you again—and bring you something to repay you for your kindness."

"Oh, that isn't necessary," said Bella quickly. "We're happy to help."

"You've been more than helpful," Fíli said. "You and your family quite possibly bought us the time that saved my life. We would shame our family name if we did not repay you."

Bella smiled broadly at this, looking across the table to her husband. "Well, I suppose we couldn't refuse then, right, dear?"

"Indeed not," said Adric, nodding in agreement. "And—I have to say—I apologize for my rude behavior at our meeting. I should have treated two princes better."

"You should have treated  _any_  two people better," Bella huffed, and Adric bowed his head sheepishly.

"It's all right, Adric," said Kíli. "Two dwarves showing up on your doorstep in the rain covered in blood is enough to alarm anyone."

"Aye," agreed Fíli.

"Well, you two are welcome any time you happen to pass through," said Bella warmly. "Just don't bring an unexpected party to my doorstep, if you please. We hobbits  _do_  prefer to know our visitors before they come visiting, after all."

"We'll do our best to remember that," Kíli said with a grin, starting in on the eggs before they got cold.

* * *

After a heartfelt—and in Lily's case, tearful—farewell, Fíli and Kíli were on their way again, their packs laden with a few more supplies and a bit more food than they had arrived with. As usual, Kíli packed as much of it as possible in his own pack, even though Fíli insisted he should share in the weight. The sun was shining bright; it was another hot day, but the cool breeze kept them from feeling too uncomfortable, and the occasional cloud brought them some shade.

They started off slowly; to Kíli's relief, Fíli seemed to have finally learned his lesson. They took breaks often as the day progressed, sometimes simply sitting and relaxing, other times eating or chatting and laughing. Though Fíli was clearly still in pain, the breaks were doing him a world of good; he did not seem as pale as before, and his hand did not stray to his abdomen at every spare moment. However, as the day drew on, he became quieter and quieter, and he smiled less readily than before.

They reached the Road by evening and took shelter at an inn for the night. There were no incidents, and after a good night's rest, they made their way west towards home, stopping at another inn the next night. After that, they were out of the Shire, and their plan was to make camp at night the rest of the way.

Though Fíli still talked, Kíli could see that he was upset about something. He often got lost in thought, missing something Kíli said, or on occasion he would become irritated—especially if the pain was worse. Furthermore, he asked to take breaks more and more often, even though he insisted that he was feeling better, not worse. He offered no explanation for his disquiet, and Kíli was not sure he should ask. After the third night of this behavior, however, Kíli was too concerned to keep quiet any longer.

Fíli lit the fire that night, and Kíli pulled out their blankets and some food. He handed a piece of dried meat to Fíli and took his seat across the fire, watching his brother carefully. Fíli took a bite and kept his eyes trained on the fire, his golden hair shining brightly in the orange light.

"Fíli," he said, and his brother's eyes flicked up to his face, shining with melancholy. Kíli licked his lips. "What's the matter?"

"I'm all right, Kíli," Fíli said, looking back into the flames. "I'm just—I'm just still in pain. That's all."

Kíli nodded, unsatisfied. That couldn't be all. Fíli would have said something if it was just the pain.

"If you're thinking about the other night, Fíli, I've lived with it for a long time now," said Kíli. "You don't have to worry. It was just because of—of recent events that it's been worse. I'll be fine. I promise. It doesn't bother me that much at all, to be honest. Please don't feel guilty any longer."

"I wasn't thinking about that," said Fíli. "But…" He sighed. "I'll try, Kíli. I thought it was over, but it's just one more thing, one more problem I've caused—" He stopped himself then, sighing deeply and poking the fire with a stick. Kíli could think of nothing else to say. After thirty-seven years, there was nothing else he  _could_  say. Instead, he sat quietly, waiting for Fíli to let out what was really on his mind.

Sure enough, after several minutes, Fíli broke the silence.

"Do you think Uncle will ever try to reclaim Erebor?" he said.

Kíli blinked, surprised. "Er… I don't know," he said. "I mean, I'm sure he wants to. He talks about it with Balin and Dwalin every so often."

"Balin always tries to discourage him," Fíli said. He pressed his lips together for a moment. "I think he thinks we're better off where we are."

"Hm," said Kíli, pondering. "I think he worries. He was with our grandfather when he disappeared, you know."

"Yes, I know," said Fíli. "Him and Dwalin both. And Thrain disappeared in the night… they think he went mad."

"Aye," said Kíli, eyeing Fíli with a furrowed brow. Why were they discussing this?

"Do you think Thorin ever worries that he'll go mad, too?" Fíli said. "That maybe he's not fit to be king?"

"You would know better than I," Kíli replied, perplexed. "He doesn't talk about that with me."

"Well, I don't know, either," said Fíli. He pulled some grass out of the ground and started picking apart the blades. "I was just thinking about it. Being king—it's a big responsibility. The people have to trust you with their lives. Those closest to you have to believe in you. Be willing to follow you." He paused for a moment and sighed. "Balin and Dwalin are Thorin's most trusted advisors. If they don't believe in him—I don't know. It seems like it would be difficult."

Suddenly Kíli had the impression that Fíli was not talking about Thorin at all, but he did not want to embarrass his brother by acknowledging it. Instead of responding, he simply nodded, thinking hard. There had to be  _some_  way to cheer Fíli up.

"Oh!" he said, so suddenly and loudly that Fíli jumped and looked up at him, alarmed. "I almost forgot—I have something I think you'll be happy to see. Just a moment." He reached for his pack and pulled it close, rummaging through for what he sought. His fingers touched the whittled wood, and he pulled out Fíli's pipe triumphantly.

"I saved this for you," he said. "I thought you might want it again."

Fíli's eyes brightened, and he gestured for Kíli to pass it over. Kíli leaned around the fire and placed the treasured possession in his hand. Fíli looked it over quickly; the brightness left his eyes again and the corners of his lips pulled downward as he beheld the new markings Kíli had carved.

"I threw this in the fire," he said. "I tried to destroy it."

"You didn't know what you were doing, though," said Kíli quickly, his stomach sinking. This wasn't working as well as he had hoped. "Besides, I fixed it up again. It's right as rain."

"But I ruined it," Fíli whispered, fingering the new markings.

"It's not  _ruined_ , Fíli," said Kíli. "It's just a bit different, is all."

Fíli blinked rapidly and looked up at Kíli with wide eyes. He said nothing, however; instead, he pressed his lips together and returned his gaze to the pipe in his hand, looking a little more hopeful than before.

* * *

Kíli awoke the next morning to the familiar scent of pipe smoke. He opened his eyes slowly, looking around for Fíli; his brother was leaning against a nearby tree, puffing cheerfully on his pipe.

"Morning, lazybones," he said.

"Morning," Kíli replied, pulling himself up and stretching. "Did you make breakfast?"

"Only for me," Fíli replied, glancing slyly at his brother.

"What?" Kíli said, looking around for evidence of food eaten. "You actually made food without me?"

Fíli laughed. "No, I'm kidding," he said. "I didn't make anything. There's bread and a couple of apples left in your sack, though. I helped myself to an apple already."

"Hm," said Kíli suspiciously. He peered into his bag and pulled out an apple for himself. "How are you feeling? Ready to travel?"

"After I finish this pipe," Fíli said. "Don't rush me—I haven't smoked in weeks."

"That's fine," said Kíli goodnaturedly. He was just happy to see that Fíli was appreciating the pipe instead of mourning its altered state.

After Fíli had finished his pipe and they had both eaten a bit more food, they set off for the day. Fíli asked for fewer breaks than the previous day, and he laughed and sang more freely, once even attempting to race Kíli on his pony before he remembered that he was still injured. They made camp for the night under a huge willow by a small, wandering stream. Though it was small, Kíli still kept his distance.

The next day, it became clear that Fíli had noticed his wariness around the stream; his mood had fouled considerably, though he tried not to show it. Breaks became more and more frequent, and by the time they had reached the Lune, Kíli was tempted to refuse to stop, even if Fíli asked. He knew his brother was just stalling, but he didn't want to further foul his mood by bringing it up.

The next several days passed by without incident, though Fíli became quieter again as the days progressed. His expression became more and more anxious, and their breaks came more and more often, but finally, they were almost home. They stopped for dinner not too far from the village, and Fíli was quiet throughout their meal. Kíli noticed that he kept taking in deep breaths, and he watched him carefully; Fíli did not meet his eye once.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked finally.

"No, I don't think so," said Fíli, pressing a hand to his chest. "I don't—I don't feel right. I think I need to rest a little longer."

"We're only ten miles from home," said Kíli. "Are you sure you can't just press on?"

"I'm very sure, yes," said Fíli, keeping his hand in place. "I—something is…" he swallowed and took a deep breath. "Just give me a while longer. Maybe we could rest here tonight."

"Fíli," said Kíli, "we could be home by sunset."

"I know, but I can't—I can't breathe. I can't breathe right. Something is wrong, Kee."

Kíli felt a pang of fear in his chest, and he knelt down at his brother's side. Fíli was breathing more heavily now, and he clenched his trembling hands into fists and brought them up to either side of his head, bending until his forehead touched his knees.

"When did you start feeling like this?" Kíli asked, putting one hand on Fíli's shoulder. He glanced down at Fíli's abdomen, but Fíli seemed to be ignoring the wound at the moment.

"Um, when we sat down to eat," Fíli said into his knees. "I thought I could just wait it out—I don't know what's wrong—"

"Maybe we should hurry home, then," Kíli said. He had no idea what to do. This was too sudden. "Óin can look at your wound—"

" _No!_ " Fíli shouted, his head snapping up. His wide eyes shone with tears. "No, I don't want to—I can't go back there, Kíli. I can't go back. I can't…" He took in a gulp of air and shook his head.

Suddenly, Kíli realized what was happening.

"Fíli, I don't think you're sick," he said slowly. "I think you're panicking."

"Ha," said Fíli, his voice cracking. "Well, I've got good reason to. I've only betrayed the trust of everyone I know. They're not going to forgive me, Kíli, I know it, they're not going to, I don't want to go back—"

"Hey, easy," said Kíli. "Of course they will—I did, didn't I?"

"That doesn't mean  _they_  will," said Fíli. "That doesn't mean they'll trust me again. I can't face them, Kee." He took in a deep breath. "I don't deserve to be forgiven. I'm not worthy of trust."

"That is  _not_  true," said Kíli adamantly. "You didn't mean to do  _any_  of those things, and if they don't forgive you, they're fools. It'll be all right. I swear."

Fíli shook his head. "I don't know if I can believe that," he said, his voice wobbling. "I just want to stay here tonight. Please, Kíli. I can't go back tonight. I can't."

Kíli tightened his grip on Fíli's shoulder and said nothing for a few moments. Fíli bowed his head again and took in more deep breaths. If this was what the thought of returning did to his brother, perhaps they  _should_  wait until the next day to finish their journey.

"Well, let's wait until tomorrow, then," he said, sitting down shoulder-to-shoulder with his big brother. "We'll just rest here, all right?"

Fíli nodded, still taking in deep breaths. Kíli leaned his shoulder into Fíli's, and Fíli leaned back; they sat like that for a long while as Fíli attempted to calm down. Eventually Fíli regained control, and he looked up, wiping at his wet cheeks and his nose with his sleeve.

"That was… really unpleasant," he said. He let out a congested chuckle. "I don't think I'd like to feel like that again."

"Well, don't worry so much," said Kíli. "I'm sure everything will be fine."

"I hope you're right," Fíli said.

"I  _know_  I'm right," Kíli replied.

* * *

"I think we should go on foot from here."

Fíli groaned. "But that means  _walking_ ," he protested.

"It's not that far," said Kíli, gesturing at the village before him. "They're not our ponies, anyway—they need to go home. Let's set them loose now, and I'll help you walk if you need it."

"I don't need help," Fíli grumbled as Kíli dismounted from his pony. "I just would rather not walk if I can help it."

"Come on," said Kíli. "We're almost there. Just a few minutes' walk, now."

Kíli helped Fíli dismount, and then they said goodbye to Tom's ponies, who tossed their heads and turned around as soon as they were set loose. For a minute, Fíli and Kíli watched them go. Then they turned back towards the village, and Kíli put a hand on Fíli's shoulder. Fíli took a deep breath.

"You all right?" Kíli said.

Fíli nodded, though his face did not show it—he looked ready to break down at any moment. Kíli squeezed his shoulder and smiled, and Fíli attempted to smile back. They walked down the familiar street together.

It was early in the morning; so early, in fact, that there was no one in the street at all, and everything still held a pale blue hue. Fíli had not been able to sleep that night, and he had woken Kíli quite early and requested that they just get it over with. They had made good time since then, and they were soon at the front door of their home. Kíli looked up at the chimney, which was puffing a good amount of smoke. Someone was already awake, then. He looked back at Fíli and furrowed his brow—his brother was standing back, his eyes wide in distress. Kíli sighed.

"Fíli, it'll be all right," he said. "Come on."

"I can't, Kíli—I can't," said Fíli, his voice wavering. "I can't bear to see their faces—what they must think of me…"

"All right, then, I'll go in first," said Kíli. "I'll make sure everything is good, and then I'll come get you. Does that sound fine?"

Fíli nodded quickly and crossed his arms protectively over his chest, looking left and right. Kíli shook his head and sighed again; then he opened the front door.

"Hello?" he called softly as he stepped in. No one was in the kitchen, but the fire burned merrily; there had to be someone nearby. He closed the door behind himself and set down his pack, craning his neck to search for his mother or his uncle anywhere.

Just as his pack touched the ground, Dís came out of the living room with a mug in her hand. Her eyes met Kíli's, and she stopped. The mug fell to the ground and shattered.

"Kíli?" she breathed, frozen in place.

"Hello, Mum," said Kíli, suddenly feeling nervous and sheepish. "I'm back."

"Oh,  _Kíli_ ," Dís said thickly. She ran to her son and crashed into him, wrapping her arms around him tightly. Kíli hugged her in return, dropping his chin onto her shoulder. She smelled of woodsmoke and berries and soap—just like she always did. He breathed in deep. He hadn't realized how much he had missed her.

"Kíli, oh,  _Kíli_ , we thought you were dead, I thought you were dead, I thought you were never coming back to me," Dís sobbed, holding on to her youngest. "I thought… I thought so many things…" Suddenly, she leaned back and slapped him hard on the chest. "Don't you  _dare_  do that to me  _ever_  again!"

"Sorry, Mum," said Kíli sheepishly. "Where's Uncle?"

"He's out looking for  _you_!" said Dís. "He still hasn't given up… after what you… well, we'll talk about that later." Smoothing his bangs off his forehead, she smiled tremulously; then, she looked behind Kíli hopefully. "But where is Fíli? Is he…?"

"He's here," said Kíli, peeling himself away from his mother's grip. He looked his mother in the eyes. "What I set out to do, Mum—it worked. He's fine now. But… he doesn't think you'll want to see him. He's outside."

"Oh, my precious boy," Dís breathed. She took Kíli's hand. "Take me to him."

Kíli nodded and opened the door, leading her out. Fíli was still frozen in place in the same position Kíli had left him—his eyes wide and his arms crossed over his chest. When Dís caught sight of Fíli, she stopped in her tracks.

"Fíli," Dís called. "Fíli, darling, come here."

Fíli met his mother's eyes and made a jerking motion forward, but he stayed where he was. Kíli could see his lip trembling. Dís took a step forward and let go of Kíli's hand.

"Fíli, you remember me now, don't you?" she said.

Fíli nodded vigorously, his entire chin wobbling now as he fought back tears, but still he did not move forward. Dís walked the short distance to him instead, and he did not draw back. Slowly, she reached up with one hand and laid it against his cheek, and Fíli flinched.

"Don't be afraid, my love," said Dís. She did not move her hand; after a few moments, Fíli closed his eyes and let out a shuddering sigh, leaning into her touch.

"I missed you  _so_  much, my darling," she said softly. "I thought I'd—"

Fíli cut her short as he wrapped her in an enormous hug, letting out a sob and burying his face into her long, dark hair. Dís returned the embrace wholeheartedly, holding tightly to her eldest as he wept in her arms.

"It's all right now," she whispered. "Hush now, my boy. It's all right."

Fíli might have responded, but whatever he said, it was lost in Dís's shoulder as he cried. Kíli smiled and leaned against the doorframe.  _It's going to be all right._  He had been right after all.

* * *


	32. Broken

Dís gave Fíli his time to weep, but Kíli saw that she was aware of prying eyes that would soon be awake. After giving her eldest enough time to calm down slightly, she wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him into the house. Fíli staggered along, keeping his gaze on the ground, and Kíli opened the door to let the two of them inside. Bringing up the rear, he closed the door behind himself, dropped his pack on the floor, and leaned against the wall, watching his mother and his brother silently.

As soon as they were inside, Dís took off Fíli's pack and made him sit at the kitchen table. Though Fíli attempted to hide his pain, he still gritted his teeth, casting a furtive glance at Kíli that said  _don't tell her_. Dís busied herself immediately with putting on the kettle for tea; then she sat down at the table next to Fíli, crossing her arms.

"Show me," she said.

"Show you what?" said Fíli, avoiding her eye. Kíli joined them at the table and said nothing.

"You're injured," said Dís, her blue eyes shining with concern. "Show me, please."

Fíli sighed and looked up at Kíli, who raised his eyebrows and shrugged. They both knew there was no way out of this. Slowly, Fíli looked back to their mother and leaned back in the chair, lifting his shirt. The wound was nowhere near as red and angry as before, but there was still some scabbing, and all around the site was a terribly painful-looking bruise. Goldberry's stitches held some kind of magic that neither Fíli nor Kíli had been able to figure out; they had melted completely into Fíli's skin, leaving no trace and yet holding everything together. Dís brought her hand up to her mouth and looked up at Fíli with wide eyes.

"What happened?" she said, lowering her hand.

"I, uh, I was… stabbed by an orc," Fíli said sheepishly, lowering his shirt. "A group of them passed through and tried to take our ponies, and we attacked them, and I got stabbed."

"Protecting me," Kíli added in. Dís turned her gaze to him. "Even though he couldn't remember who I was, Mum. He saved my life."

Dís smiled proudly and looked back at Fíli, who was looking down at his hands. She leaned forward and laid a hand on his cheek, stroking his cheekbone softly. He raised his eyes to meet hers forlornly.

"I am proud of you," she said. Fíli took a deep breath and blinked rapidly. She dropped her hand after a few moments and looked at her two boys.

"Well, that explains one thing, at least," she said. "We didn't know where you had gone, and when the ponies came back without you… I thought you were…" She pressed her lips together and closed her eyes, shaking her head slightly. "It's been hard, boys.  _Very_  hard." She looked at Kíli. "I wish you had been able to do this some other way."

"There  _was_  no other way," Kíli said passionately. "Thorin  _never_  would have listened to me, and I—"

"I know you did what you thought was right, and I am glad that it worked, Kíli, but the fact remains that you betrayed your uncle's trust and you will have to answer to him for that," said Dís. "I will not say that it was wrong, but I cannot speak for Thorin. As for me… I'm just happy that you are back." She smiled at Fíli. "In more ways than one."

Fíli smiled slightly and bowed his head. The kettle began to whistle, and Dís stood and started on making tea.

"I told you it'd be fine," said Kíli quietly. Fíli looked up at him and frowned.

" _Mum_  is fine," he said. "You heard what she said about Uncle."

"He'll forget everything once he sees us safe and sound," Kíli said confidently. "If he'll be upset with anyone, it'll be me. Don't worry."

Fíli did not reply. Instead, he looked to their mother, who was attempting to carry three mugs and a teapot to the table all at once. Kíli jumped up to help her.

"Oh, sit down—I've got this," Dís protested as Kíli reached for the mugs.

"Nonsense," said Kíli cheerfully. "Let me help, Mum."

Dís had no choice but to assent as Kíli took the mugs out of her hand and brought them to the table, placing one at each dwarf's place. Dís set the teapot down and reclaimed her seat.

"Now," she said, "tell me all about your adventure."

Fíli and Kíli exchanged glances, wondering how much to share, but they knew by this point in their lives that it was impossible to withhold much from their mother—she was too perceptive. Kíli launched into the tale as Dís poured them tea, starting when they were outside the village so as to not recount his betrayal. The two brothers shared in the storytelling, Fíli shooting warning glances at Kíli when he was sharing the more concerning details. However, Dís wrung everything out of them anyway, and soon she had the whole story. When they had finished, she sighed and traced the edge of her mug with her finger.

"You two worry me too much," she said. "All this adventuring… both of you could have died. And then where would that leave me?"

"I'm sorry, Mum, but Fíli wasn't getting any better," Kíli said. "I wasn't going to wait around forever."

"I understand," said Dís. "I am grateful to you, Kíli—I cannot tell you how grateful I am." She took Fíli's hand in her own. "You saved my firstborn. I just don't know what I would do if you both were gone forever—if I had to carry on without you."

"Well, we won't let that happen," Kíli said with a smile. Dís smiled and took his hand as well.

Suddenly, the door flew open, and Thorin burst into the house.

"Dís!" he cried. "Dís, I have information on—"

Then he stopped.

Fíli stood up in his chair as quickly as he could, and Kíli followed suit; he glanced sidelong at his elder brother, who was staring at Thorin with wide eyes. Then he looked back at Thorin, who had not moved. His gaze moved from Fíli to Kíli, and for a moment, their eyes met. A thousand thoughts flickered in his face in the span of a moment.

Then, without a word, he turned back around and walked out.

No one spoke in the stunned silence that followed. Kíli looked at Fíli, and his heart dropped into his stomach. Fíli was staring at the empty doorway, his breath caught in his chest and his eyes shining in horror.

Kíli looked at his mother, and she looked at him; he could tell she was torn between staying with Fíli and going after her brother to give him an earful. He nodded at her and signed  _Go ahead, I'll stay here._  Dís nodded gratefully in return and dashed out the door, closing it behind her. Fíli sank back into his chair and dropped his head into his shaking hands.

"I knew it, I knew it," he whispered, staring wide-eyed at the table.

"Whoa, it's all right, Fee," Kíli said, drawing a chair close and sitting down. He placed a hand on Fíli's back. "He probably just needs a moment, is all."

"You know that isn't true," Fíli said quietly, though his voice trembled. "He's angry—I could see it in his eyes. He's not going to accept me back, he's going to—" He stopped pressed his palms into his eyes. "I don't  _deserve_  forgiveness, after all the things I have done—"

"Stop, Fíli," Kíli said. "We'll talk to Thorin. We'll bring him around."

"You should have left me in jail, Kíli," Fíli said, shaking his head. "You should have  _left_  me there, it's no more than I deserve…"

"That's not fair," Kíli protested. "You would still be lost if I hadn't sprung you out. You can't regret that. You shouldn't be held responsible for anything you did then—Mum will make sure of it."

"He's not going to forgive me, Kíli," Fíli said, raising his head and staring at him incredulously. He gestured at the door with a shaking hand. "You saw the look in his eyes—he's probably going to… to disinherit me, or something, maybe even cast me out—"

Kíli leaned forward and pulled Fíli into a fierce hug then, and Fíli leaned into him with a shuddering breath.

"Mum went after him, all right?" Kíli said. "I'll talk to him, too. He can't do this to you—he can't. We won't let him. It'll be fine."

Fíli nodded. "I just… I think I want to lie down," he said faintly. "Let's just go to our room. Can we go to our room?"

Kíli nodded and pulled back from the embrace; he touched his forehead to his brother's.

"You deserve nothing less than complete forgiveness and a hearty welcome," he said. "Don't despair, all right?" He patted Fíli's face and stood, holding out his hands for his brother. Fíli took them, and Kíli pulled him up. They walked together to the bedroom, and Fíli immediately climbed onto the bed and curled into a ball, his back facing the door. Kíli frowned, his heart aching for his brother.

"Don't worry, Fíli," he said. "Everything will be fine." Fíli did not answer; he merely curled up even tighter and sighed. Kíli shifted on his feet and bit his lip.

"Do you want me to stay?" he said.

"You don't have to," Fíli said to the far wall. He didn't move. "I think I'll just sleep. I haven't been able to properly rest in… in quite a long time."

"All right," said Kíli, backing out of the room. He closed the door and leaned against it, running a hand through his hair. This was all  _wrong_. Thorin shouldn't be treating Fíli like this—he understood if Thorin was angry with  _him_ , but Fíli was a different story. Thorin should have accepted him with open arms.

 _I have to talk to him,_  he thought.  _I have to fix this._  With that thought, he pushed himself off the door and ran out of the house, looking around for his uncle and mother. He stood still and listened; surely, if they were close by, his mother would be shouting. Then he spied his mother rounding the corner, fury radiating from her face. Kíli took a step back.

"Where is Fíli?" she said to Kíli when she spotted him, her voice surprisingly gentle given the look on her face.

"He wanted to rest," Kíli said. "He's in our room."

Dís stopped in front of Kíli and smiled at him, taking his face in her hands and pulling it down to give him a kiss on the forehead.

"I'm glad you're back," she said. "And Thorin is, too. I know it. He's just a stubborn old mule."

"I was just going to go talk to him," Kíli said.

Dís huffed. "If you can talk some sense into that one, be my guest," she said. "But he's been hurt, Kíli—you didn't see him when he discovered you were gone. He was completely beside himself. What you did… it may be hard for him to forgive."

"I don't care if he doesn't forgive me," said Kíli. "I only care that he forgives Fíli."

"Well, talk to him, then," said Dís. "He wouldn't say much to me. He's in the stables." She stroked her son's hair and then went inside, and Kíli headed behind the house to where the ponies were kept. Thorin was leaning against the outer wall, smoking his pipe; when he saw Kíli approaching, he extinguished it and crossed his arms, waiting.

"What is it?" he said as Kíli came closer.

"Well…" said Kíli, taken aback by the amount of bitterness in his uncle's voice. "I… I thought you'd be happier to see us, I guess."

Thorin sighed and turned around, heading further into the stables towards his pony. Kíli furrowed his brow as a surge of annoyance shot through him.

"What, you can't even talk to me?" he said.

"Kíli, go back inside," Thorin said, keeping his back turned.

"No, I won't," said Kíli incredulously. "Uncle, what you did to Fíli back there… I understand if you're angry with me, but Fíli didn't—"

"Fíli tried to  _kill_  you," said Thorin, his eyes flashing as he turned his face towards Kíli.

"He didn't know what he was doing. He didn't even know who he  _was_ ," Kíli said. "You  _know_  that. How can you hold that against him?"

"You don't understand, Kíli—"

"No, you're right—I don't," Kíli interrupted. "I don't understand how you could spend all that time saying you would try your  _hardest_  to make Fíli better and still do  _nothing_ , how when I said I had an idea, you shut me down. I don't understand how you could say that you  _care_  about him and then  _reject_  him the way that you just did."

"Kíli—"

"If you were so beside yourself when we left, then what is keeping you from welcoming us back?" Kíli continued as anger began to boil inside him. "What could  _possibly_  warrant such behavior?"

"You have no right to speak to me that way," Thorin snapped, turning completely to face his nephew now.

"No,  _you_  have no right to treat Fíli that way," Kíli retorted. "He is desperate for your approval, Uncle—he thinks he deserves to be cast out—"

"And given what he's done, he  _should_  be!" Thorin said. Grief flickered on his face for a moment. "I can't—Kíli, when I look at him—all I can see is the things he's done, the things he's said…"

"He didn't mean to do  _any_  of that, and you  _know_  it!" Kíli shouted. "He feels guilty,  _so_  guilty about what he has done… Thorin, I've never seen him like this." He lowered his voice. "I've never seen him so… so broken. You have to tell him that you forgive him."

Thorin stared at Kíli for a few moments, his expression torn. "I thought I could," he said finally. "And now… I am not so sure."

Kíli spluttered incredulously for a moment. "How can you  _say_  that?" he said. "How could you  _possibly_  hold that against him—you're the one who told me that he was just fighting back, like an animal cornered in a cage—"

"And a fat lot of good that did!" Thorin shot back. "I  _told_  you to be careful, and what did you do? You let him go free! It's a miracle you're still alive, Kíli!"

"That doesn't matter now," Kíli said. "Fíli would never have done that had he known who he was and who I was. He is your  _nephew_  and your  _heir_ —"

"And he betrayed my trust!" Thorin shouted.

" _I_  betrayed your trust!" Kíli shouted back. " _Fíli_  was victim to circumstances out of his control! If you are going to be angry with anyone, be angry with me! Fíli doesn't deserve your wrath!"

"Yes, you betrayed my trust!" roared Thorin, taking a step towards Kíli. "You—you didn't listen to me—you  _drugged_  me and sprung your brother out of jail! You almost died at your brother's hand, and then you decided for yourself that the best course of action was to run off with the very person who attempted to  _murder_  you in cold blood!"

" _You weren't doing anything!_ " Kíli screamed, so loudly that his throat hurt. Thorin's eyes widened, and he looked around for others, but no one was around. Kíli took another step forward. "You told me that you were trying as hard as you could, that you wanted Fíli back, and then all you did was sit around and arrange shifts at the jail to make sure he didn't escape! You never took me seriously and you never listened to what I had to say! I had  _ideas_ , Thorin, and they  _worked_ —which you would have known if you had just listened to me for  _once in your life_!"

" _You_  should listen to  _me_  for once in your life!" Thorin shouted, moving forward until the two of them were standing toe-to-toe. "I wanted to keep both you and Fíli safe! I have watched over you and your brother for over sixty years, making sure you were fed and had a roof over your heads and that you knew how to defend yourselves so that you don't die on my watch! I promised your father that I would take care of you as best I could! How can I keep you safe if you will not even  _listen_  when I try?"

"I was looking out for  _Fíli_!" Kíli retorted. "I was trying to do what was best by my brother—not what made  _you_  look good in front of others! You care  _so_  much about your own reputation, about what everyone thinks about you, what goals  _you_  have in mind, that you can't even see beyond your own nose! Fíli was lost and afraid and you knew it and you did  _nothing_!"

"I did what was best for both of you!" Thorin roared. "It was  _his_  irresponsibility that got him into this mess in the first place. Do not hold me accountable for the irresponsible actions of your brother. I did not make any of this happen."

Kíli's hands were shaking. He stood his ground, staring Thorin straight in the eyes, their noses only a few inches apart. Thorin did not back down either; his gaze burned with fury, and Kíli matched it. He felt a twitch in his upper lip.

"Fíli is nothing if not loyal to you, Thorin," He said, his voice low and venomous. "He would never willingly cross you. You would do well to remember it."

With that, Kíli took a step back and whirled around. He marched away, flexing his shaking hands; his head was buzzing with adrenaline. He wanted to punch something. He wanted to punch Thorin square on his big, hawkish nose. But he had Fíli on his mind. Fíli would not approve of Kíli punching their uncle—their king—in his defense. Especially not now.

Instead, Kíli made do with slamming the front door as he came in the house. It wasn't quite as satisfying, but it was violent enough. He made his way to his bedroom, opening the door less forcefully; inside he found his mother sitting on the bed, stroking Fíli's hair as he slept. She did not look up as he entered the room.

"You shouldn't talk to your uncle like that," she said softly. "I could hear you shouting."

"He deserved it," Kíli growled, looking at his brother. He looked peaceful, more peaceful than he had in weeks. "Is he all right?"

"He's just exhausted," said Dís. "He said it was hard to sleep on the journey home."

Kíli nodded. "Thorin is angry with him," he said. "He won't listen, Mum."

"I know," said Dís, a hint of anger making its way into her voice. "I tried to talk to him, too."

"He said it was Fíli's fault that all this happened. That he was only looking out for him. I don't believe any of that for a second."

Dís sighed and bowed her head. "He doesn't know what he is thinking," she said. "He is my brother, Kili. I've known him for a very long time. He wants to forgive—he just doesn't know how anymore. He doesn't know how to let go."

"He has to," said Kíli. "For Fíli's sake. Fíli will never be the same again if he doesn't."

"I know," said Dís. "Give your uncle time. Perhaps he will see the light. Until then we will have to watch Fíli closely. He is rarely rash, but when he thinks he is unwanted…" She sighed. "Kíli, don't let him out of your sight."

* * *

Thorin avoided the house for the entire day, and Kíli was glad of it. Just the thought of seeing his uncle's face made him burn with anger, and Fíli was looking more defeated and shrunken by the hour. Further rejection could only hurt him more.

Kíli called on Gimli in the evening in the hopes of cheering Fíli up. On the way back from Gimli's home, Kíli had filled him in on Thorin's attitude, and his cousin had been rather surprised—while they had been gone, Gimli said, search parties had been called for many times. Thorin had never given up, even when the ponies had returned riderless. Kíli felt a small surge of hope—perhaps Thorin  _would_  have a change of heart.

For a while, Kíli's distraction seemed to work. The three young dwarves had drinks together and talked and even laughed, but after a while, Fíli's laughter seemed hollow, and the smile on his lips did not carry to his eyes. Kíli noticed that he was continually looking towards the front door; Gimli noticed, too, and they exchanged worried glances. Eventually Fíli claimed pain and exhaustion and excused himself to bed, leaving his brother and his cousin sitting in the kitchen.

"Well, he's better," said Gimli quietly, "but he's not  _better_ , if you know what I mean."

Kíli nodded. "It's because of Thorin," he said heatedly. "If Thorin would just tell him that he didn't hold anything against him, we could have the old Fíli back."

"He'd have to be telling the truth first," said Gimli, taking another sip of his beer.

"Aye," said Kíli faintly, staring at his bedroom door. "He would."

Kíli and Gimli talked for a while longer, but it was late and Gimli was tired. Soon they said good night and Gimli headed home; Kíli sat alone in the kitchen, staring out into nothing, deep in thought.

The sound of the front door opening pulled Kíli from his thoughts, and he looked up to see Thorin stepping into the house. His eyes met Kíli's for a moment, and Kíli shot him a dark look. Thorin looked away, sitting down to pull off his boots. Then he walked down the hall to his room and closed the door, never casting a second glance Kíli's way.

Kíli huffed and set down his beer. He wasn't getting anywhere with his uncle tonight; he didn't even want to  _see_  him, let alone talk to him. It was time for bed. He stood and stretched, yawning, and then made his way to his room.

Fíli was awake when Kíli stepped in, much to his surprise. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his back facing the door and the lamp out; he turned his head slightly as Kíli stepped in.

"Hey," said Kíli, closing the door gently.

"Hey, Kíli," Fíli replied. He faced the far wall again and was silent.

"You all right?" Kíli said, stepping towards the bed.

Fíli nodded slightly and took a deep breath. "Yeah, I'm all right." He swung his feet onto the bed and lay back, gritting his teeth, and pulled the covers over his shoulders.

Kíli bit his lip and nodded. If Fíli said he was all right… well, he was probably lying, but Kíli was not the only one there for him anymore. Fíli probably wouldn't want to talk to him about this again—not when their mother was there. Kíli had only been a substitute for a caretaker when no one else had been available. Quietly he stripped and put on bedclothes and climbed into bed. Fíli kept his back turned as Kíli curled up into his usual position; he stirred when Kíli's foot came in contact with his leg, but still he said nothing.

"Good night, Fíli," he said.

"Good night," Fíli whispered. Kíli stared at the back of Fíli's head, his eyes tracing the golden waves of his brother's hair. He wondered if he should say anything more.

"Kíli?"

Kíli blinked. "Yes?"

"Thank you," said Fíli quietly. "For all that you did for me. I'll never forget it."

"Of course," said Kíli, bewildered. Fíli's voice seemed strange.

"You're a good little brother," Fíli continued. "The very best. Better than I could ever deserve."

"Fíli, are you sure you're all right?" said Kíli slowly.

"None of this is your fault, all right?" said Fíli thickly, ignoring the question. "You did everything you could for me. I love you, little brother."

"Love you too," Kíli replied. Fíli sighed and rolled onto his stomach, shoving his face into his pillow—a signal that the conversation was over. His hair hid his face from Kíli's view, and Kíli stared at him in the darkness, his heart burning with both pity and anger.

* * *

When Kíli awoke, the rays of the early morning sun were peeping into the bedroom, casting a pale light throughout the room. In the semi-darkness, the room looked odd; shadows lay in strange places on the walls, familiar and yet unfamiliar after so long from home. He yawned and stretched his legs, pausing suddenly when they passed through nothing from empty space. The space next to him was vacant. Kíli sat bolt upright in his bed and looked about the room.

"Fíli?" he called tentatively. No answer.

Kíli ripped off his covers and jumped out of bed, taking a cursory look around the room—no Fíli. He burst into the kitchen and looked around, but Fíli was not there either. His heart sinking in his chest, he dashed into the living room, but it was empty.

"No," Kíli whispered. He ran outside and looked around; it was early enough that there was no one to see—not even Fíli. He checked the stables, but only the ponies were there.

 _Maybe I'm just tired,_  he reasoned with himself.  _Maybe he just got up for a minute. Maybe he's back._  With that thought, he ran back inside and into his room—but he was wrong. Fíli was not there.

Kíli dropped into the chair in the corner of the room and buried his head in his hands, breathing hard.  _This isn't happening. This can't happen again._  He thought back to the night before—the words Fíli had said; they had seemed odd to him, out of place, and he hadn't known why. Now he knew. Kíli let out a panicked moan and ran his hands through his hair.

_Fíli is missing… again._


	33. Search

For a long minute, all Kíli could do was panic.

 _Where could he have gone?_  he thought.  _Why would he leave? Why would he do this?_

Kíli's thoughts turned to Thorin then; his lip curled and his hands began to shake.  _Thorin._  If the old mule had just accepted Fíli back… that had to be it. Fíli had run off before because he thought that he was unwanted, and it had been Thorin's fault that time, too—Kíli remembered it well. Thorin had ripped him out of the room and slammed him against the wall by his throat, shouting at him and then leaving him, sick and alone, on the floor. Kíli's vision was going red. Thorin had done it  _again_ … before he could even think, Kíli was on his feet and running down the hall to his uncle's bedroom. He slammed Thorin's door open, startling his uncle out of his sleep. Kíli dove at him and grabbed hold of the front of his tunic.

"This is  _all your fault_!" he shouted hoarsely, shaking Thorin violently. Finally Thorin had his senses about him enough to defend himself, but Kíli was relentless. He pulled his arms out of Thorin's grip and swung out with a clenched fist, making contact with Thorin's cheekbone. Thorin shouted out in surprise and pain and struggled to pull himself out of bed, blocking his face with one arm as Kíli swung again.

"Kíli,  _stop_!" Thorin cried.

"It's  _your fault_!" Kíli said again. "Fíli holds you in highest honor, with greatest respect—he is more loyal to you than  _anyone_  else and you treat him like a criminal, like an outcast! How  _dare_  you! What kind of leader are you that you would forsake your own kin?"

Suddenly, arms wrapped around Kíli's middle. They pulled him away from Thorin and sent him flying across the room; he hit the wall with a  _thud_  and cried out, looking for his attacker. Dís stood between him and Thorin, her arms outstretched defensively. Boiling with wrath, Kíli yelled and charged, attempting to bypass Dís, but she caught him and threw him back again.

" _Enough_ , Kíli!" she shouted. "What in the name of all the Valar has gotten into you? How  _dare_  you treat my brother in such a way?"

"He isn't worthy to be called kin!" Kíli spat. He jabbed a finger in Thorin's direction. "He forsakes those who are most loyal to him when he should forgive! He rejected Fíli when he should have accepted him! I will not claim kinship—I will not even say the  _name_  of one who treats my brother such!"

Kíli bent over, breathing hard; his breath was coming with great difficulty now, and he felt dizzy. His knees wobbled and gave way, but Dís caught him before he hit the ground.

"Kíli—Kíli! Are you all right?" she said, her voice fraught with worry.

"Fíli's gone," Kíli gasped. "He ran off. He ran off  _again_. And it's  _his_  fault!" Kíli looked up at Thorin with a hateful glare; his uncle's eyes were wide.

"What?" Thorin said.

"He's  _gone_!" Kíli said hoarsely. "He… he must have left in the night—I couldn't find him anywhere…" He trailed off, wheezing; Dís held him upright as he struggled to regain his breath. He heard Fíli's voice in his head.  _You're panicking, little brother. Breathe in, Kíli._  He drew in a difficult breath, letting it out slowly, and then drew in another. Still not quite right, but good enough. He pulled himself unsteadily to his feet.

"Kíli," said Thorin, his voice barely more than a whisper, "where did he go?"

"I don't know," Kíli said, still gasping. "I have no idea."

Thorin and Dís looked at each other, speaking silently with their eyes; Kíli glanced back and forth between them, leaning against his mother heavily. Then Thorin looked at Kíli.

"I won't lose him again," he said heavily. His blue eyes bored into Kíli. "I  _can't_. You're right, Kíli—he is my kin. And I will  _not_  let him believe I do not want him."

Kíli stared at Thorin, breathing carefully. He felt the hot anger inside him draining away, leaving him cold and shaking, and he swallowed.

"Thank you," he said.

Thorin nodded seriously and looked at Dís.

"Arrange a search party," he said. "Groups of two in every direction. We will gather here in half an hour."

Dís nodded and let Kíli go, quickly leaving the room. Thorin started to change, ripping clothes from drawers and throwing them on as fast as possible.

"Go get ready, Kíli," he said. "We're going to find your brother."

* * *

In half an hour, all those that Dís could find had been rallied—twelve dwarves in all. They stood in a small circle outside the front door, waiting for Thorin's instructions.

"We do not know where Fíli has gone and we have no clue to start on," Thorin said seriously, taking a cursory look at the group around him. "We will split into six groups. Balin and Dwalin—head south. Óin, Glóin—you'll head west. Bofur, Bombur—start east, along the established road. Dís and I will go north, and Dori and Ori, you stay in the area and see if anyone has seen or heard anything."

"What about Gimli and I?" said Kíli.

"You remember the route you took when you ran off?" Thorin said. Kíli shrank a little but nodded. "Start along that way, then." He looked out at the group. "We will regroup here at sunset if we have found nothing. Do not harm him if you find him—he is unlikely to be violent. Only split up if you have found Fíli and he refuses to come home. In that case, one of you stay with him—do  _not_  leave him on his own—and the other come find either me and Dís or Kíli and Gimli. Is that understood?"

A chorus of  _aye_ s sounded from the circle, and dwarves began heading off in every direction. Kíli and Gimli exchanged glances and headed northeast.

"I thought he'd make you stay with him," Gimli said. "After all that's happened."

"I think he's still angry with me," Kíli replied. "Probably more so now. We argued yesterday."

"Argued or fought?" said Gimli, casting a glance at his cousin. "There's a nice developing bruise on his face, there."

"Well, that was just within the past hour, actually," said Kíli sheepishly. "I… didn't take well to finding Fíli gone. I blamed Thorin."

"Why?"

"Because it's his fault," said Kíli crossly. "He hasn't said a single word to Fíli since we returned—hasn't even  _looked_  at him, really. I'm sure Fíli ran off because he thinks Thorin will never forgive him." He lowered his voice and looked at the ground. "He was afraid of that, Gimli.  _Really_  afraid. I've never seen him act the way he has lately."

"Well, Thorin is looking for him now," said Gimli. "That has to say something."

"If we find him," Kíli mumbled. "Honestly, I'm surprised he was so quick to set up a search party."

"Well, given what's happened in the past, I think he learned his lesson," said Gimli.

Kíli blinked. He had not thought of that—Thorin actually  _listening_  to him for once. As much as he was angry with Thorin, he had to give him credit for stepping into action so quickly. It was certainly a welcome change in behavior.

"Well, let's speed up," he said, brushing the topic aside. "We don't know how long he's been gone, and I want to cover as much ground as possible if we have to meet back home by sunset. There's no knowing where he could be."

"If he came this way at all," said Gimli, matching Kíli's pace.

"Well, we have to try," Kíli said. "Come on."

* * *

The day's search had proved fruitless for all, it seemed; no one had seen or heard anything of Fíli from any direction. He had simply disappeared.

"We  _have_  to keep searching," Kíli said to Thorin desperately as the other dwarves began heading for home. "Thorin, please."

"I know, Kíli," said Thorin, nodding to Óin and Glóin as they left with Gimli. "I don't plan to stop searching, but I cannot ask the same of everyone else."

"Why not?" Kíli demanded. "You're their king!"

"And they are my kin, not my slaves, Kíli," said Thorin. "Balin, Dwalin, and Bofur have volunteered to continue the search into the night. We will keep looking—I promise."

"I'll help, too," said Kíli.

"No," Thorin said quickly. "No, you are to go home and rest."

Kíli furrowed his brow. "No, I'm going to help," he said adamantly. "Just put me with someone—"

"You could barely breathe this morning, Kíli," said Thorin firmly. "Now is not the time to make yourself ill." He took hold of Kíli's shoulders and looked into his eyes. "Go rest, Kíli. You can rejoin us in the morning."

"I can't just  _give up_  on him!" Kíli said, his voice cracking as he ripped himself out of Thorin's grip. "I can't just  _go home_  and  _go to sleep_ —"

"And if Fíli decides to come home, someone should be here for him, don't you think?" said Thorin. He nodded to someone behind his nephew; Kíli turned around to see Dís coming towards him with outstretched arms. So he wasn't to be given a choice in this matter. He could feel a lump developing in his throat.

"Please, Uncle—let me join you," he whispered as Dís's hands closed on his arms and began to pull him towards the house.

"Go inside, Kíli," said Thorin.

Kíli bowed his head and let his hair fall over his eyes as he reluctantly allowed Dís to take him away. He felt defeated. The lump in his throat grew larger, and he fought hard against the growing tears in his eyes.

"Maybe he'll come home tonight, my love," said Dís softly as she led him in. "Or maybe they'll find him. Do not despair."

Kíli nodded and said nothing. When they had made it inside, Kíli trudged off to his room alone and shut the door quietly behind him. He sat heavily on the bed and sighed, looking up at the ceiling to keep the tears from falling.

"Fíli, please come home," he said.

* * *

Somehow, Kíli managed to sleep that night, but the morning did not bring him the news he desired. Fíli was still missing. The weather seemed to match Kíli's gloomy mood; dark clouds had moved in during the night, casting the mountains into darkness. A warm, wet wind blew, signaling a violent thunderstorm was on its way. Some of the other dwarves had agreed to search again despite the weather; Balin and Dwalin were relentless, and Glóin, Óin, and Gimli had returned for another day, eager to help. Balin and Dwalin returned south, but Thorin sent Óin and Glóin east. He and Dís agreed to go north again, leaving the west and local areas for Kíli and Gimli. They set out quickly, eager to cover more ground than the previous day.

The first half of the day was fruitless, and Kíli began to despair. Where could Fíli have gone? Kíli could not think of anywhere his brother would go—no one he would go to see. As far as he could tell, Fíli had avoided seeing anyone, which meant that he wanted to be alone.

Kíli and Gimli ate lunch under a large willow and discussed further plans.

"Where didn't we look yesterday?" Kíli said.

"We were in the east yesterday," said Gimli. "We haven't looked anywhere around here."

"I wonder why Thorin sent us this way today," said Kíli. "We could have continued that way…"

"I think he was trying to keep us closer to home," Gimli replied. "We could go forever east. Unless we go over the mountains, we can only go so far west."

"The only things west of here are tombs," said Kíli, gesturing towards the mountains. "There aren't many places to hide this way."

"Nevertheless, we should check again. He might not have been there yesterday, but that doesn't mean he's not there today."

"You're right," said Kíli, rising and dusting crumbs off his trousers. "Let's get a move on, then—the sooner we get there, the longer we can look."

The two cousins set off together towards the tombs in the mountains. On the way there, the dark clouds above finally burst, releasing torrents of rain; neither Kíli nor Gimli was deterred, however, and they continued on towards the base of the mountain.

The dwarves of the Blue Mountains had chiseled the final resting places out of the rock itself; contained among the mountains west of the several dwarf villages were hundreds of these carefully crafted compartments, each filled with the body of a loved one and a plaque placed over the opening. There was no greater honor in death than being able to return their bodies to the stone from which their maker had crafted them. Some dwarves had more elaborate tombs than others. The commoners had simple graves with simple plaques made of stone, while wealthier and nobler families had plaques made of gold or silver or other precious metals and inlaid with gems of all shapes and sizes. Whatever the graves were made of, they stretched along the mountain for at least a mile in each direction—the settlement in the Blue Mountains was over a hundred and fifty years old, and in that time, many dwarves had been laid to rest, including Kíli's own father, Jóli. Unlike the other dwarves, Jóli had a large, elaborate tomb all to himself as one of the royal family. Also unlike the others, Jóli's tomb was not permanently sealed; when Erebor was reclaimed, his body would be moved to the royal tombs of his birthplace. Only the royal family was afforded this honor.

Kíli and Gimli arrived roughly in the middle of the long line of tombs and headed south, calling Fíli's name all the while, though their voices could barely be heard over the din of the rain and the constant rumblings of thunder. Even so, Kíli felt slightly disrespectful shouting in a place to honor the dead, but he brushed aside his inhibitions in his need to find his brother.

"Where is your father's tomb?" Gimli asked. "If Fíli would be anywhere, it would be there, right?"

"That's assuming that he has a plan," said Kíli. "I don't think he does, Gimli."

Still, the idea was better than nothing. They continued south; the further they got, the more elaborate the tombs became. Jóli's was near the end, laid out in splendor befitting one of the royal family; instead of a simple plaque, a doorway had been carved out of the mountain, complete with a portico at the entrance. Kíli kept an eye out for the tomb; he did not visit here often, and in the heavy rain, the stone entrance would be hard to spot. Finally they were almost there, and Kíli raised his hand to his brow, shielding his eyes from the rain.

"I don't see anything," he said to Gimli.

"Well, let's be certain about it," Gimli replied. Kíli nodded and moved closer to the tomb, searching all around the area and still seeing nothing.

Then, as he rounded a corner, he saw him.

"Fíli," Kíli whispered. He grabbed hold of Gimli's arm. "Gimli, that's Fíli. I'll go to him. Go get Thorin and my mum."

Wide-eyed, Gimli nodded and immediately ran off; Kíli ran towards the tomb, his approaching footsteps lost in the sound of rain. Fíli was sitting on the steps, safe from the rain under the portico. He was leaning against the door with one shoulder, his temples resting against the stone. Kíli leapt up the steps and knelt in front of him.

"Fíli," he said, placing a hand on his brother's knee. Fíli did not move. His eyes were open, but they stared out into nothing; their color seemed dull. For a moment, Kíli panicked— _He's dead. I'm too late_. He shook Fíli's leg violently, and much to his relief, Fíli slowly raised his eyes to meet his little brother's. Kíli's heart jumped at the look in his brother's eyes. They looked so lifeless—like Fíli had been completely drained of all spirit. He frowned.

"By the Smith, Fíli, have you been here the whole time?" he said.

Fíli lowered his gaze and shook his head. "No," he said. "Wandered around a bit… didn't know where to go."

"We've been looking for you since yesterday morning," Kíli said. "You can't just  _disappear_  like that—not after all that has happened. What were you thinking?"

Fíli ignored his question and looked at the stone door he leaned against.

"Do you think Da would have forgiven me?" he said.

Kíli blinked and furrowed his brow. "I… I don't know," he said. "I never knew him, Fíli… you know that."

"But do you think he would?" Fíli said.

Kíli stared at Fíli and sighed. How could he possibly answer such a question? He thought hard, searching his mind for any information he knew about their father.

"Mum said that he was better than those of the royal line," he said. "That he didn't have the vices that we have. She said he was selfless. I think he would have forgiven you, Fíli."

This did not seem to comfort Fíli at all. His chin wobbled, and he closed his eyes.

"But he's not  _here_ ," he said tearfully. "Thorin is. And he'll never forgive me."

"Of course he will," Kíli said. "You'll see. But you have to come home. You can't run off like this."

"No," said Fíli fervidly, shaking his head. "No, I can't come home. No one wants me there—I don't deserve to be part of the family anymore… you're better off without me."

"That is ridiculous," said Kíli. "Of course we want you home. Do you think I risked  _everything_ —betrayed Uncle's trust—because I don't want you around? Fíli, there is no one in the world more important to me than you. I don't care  _what_  Thorin thinks. You belong home."

" _I_  care what Thorin thinks," Fíli said. "If he doesn't want me, what use am I, Kíli? I've betrayed my king. I deserve exile."

"You deserve nothing of the sort," Kíli said vehemently. "Now, stop this. We'll talk to Thorin together… we'll get this whole mess sorted. You'll see. It'll be fine."

"I wish I could believe you," Fíli whispered. He looked down at his knees. "But I saw the look in Thorin's eyes when he saw me."

Kíli pressed his lips together and looked out into the pouring rain. Gimli would be coming back with Thorin and Dís, but it could be hours before he found them and brought them back. He wanted to tell Fíli that their uncle was on his way, but he was afraid that Fíli would try to run again. It was better to let Thorin do the talking for himself.

"Well, if you don't want to go back, then I'll just sit here with you for a while," he said, pressing his back against the stone door.

"No, Kíli—go home," Fíli said. "You don't need to be here. I just want to be alone."

"No, you don't," said Kíli.

Fíli did not respond. He simply closed his eyes and bowed his head. Kíli made himself comfortable and sat quietly. If Fíli wanted to talk, he would talk—until then, Kíli would wait. At least the portico sheltered them from the rain.

Minutes passed. Neither dwarf said anything; in fact, Kíli was starting to think that Fíli had fallen asleep. He counted the time between the lightning and thunder; the storm was moving away, it seemed. He cleaned his fingernails. He wondered how much time had passed and if Gimli and Thorin were on their way.

"Kíli?"

Kíli looked up. "What?"

"I didn't mean to frighten you," said Fíli. "I'm sorry."

"I'm just happy to see that you're all right, Fee," Kíli replied. "Don't worry about it. All is forgiven."

Fíli nodded and drew his knees up to his chest, resting his chin in the gap between his kneecaps. He wrapped his arms around his legs and stared off into the distance beyond Kíli.

"I thought about coming back," he said. "But I couldn't."

"Why not?"

"I thought everyone would be angry with me," Fíli said, his voice wobbling. "Because I ran away again. I knew you and Mum would be worried, but I…" He sniffed. "I thought that if I just left, Thorin wouldn't have to bother disowning me. I'd just be gone. He would never have to see me or mention me again."

"Fíli, Thorin isn't going to disown you," Kíli said.

"How do you know?" Fíli said.

Kíli looked out into the rain. "I just do."

Fíli sighed and tucked his chin into his chest, pressing his nose against his knees. Kíli reached out and patted his shoulder reassuringly, searching for any indication of shapes in the downpour. Still nothing.

Once again, the two sat in silence for a long time. Fíli did not question why Kíli was still there, and he was glad of it; as much as he wanted to tell Fíli that Thorin still cared, he knew it would mean much more if Fíli heard it from their uncle himself first. So he merely waited, watching puddles form on the ground and turn into little rivers downhill. He wished that his clothes were dry.

Finally, Kíli spied silhouettes approaching. He sat up straight and counted the shadows—there were three dwarves. It had to be Gimli, Thorin, and Dís… Kíli looked at Fíli, who was eyeing him curiously.

"What are you looking at?" he said, craning his neck to look in the same direction. His eyes widened and he looked back to Kíli. "Who is coming?"

"I… had Gimli go get Uncle and Mum," Kíli said sheepishly. "We've been searching for you—all of us. I just happened to find you first."

Fíli shrank back and shook his head. "Oh, no, I don't want to talk to him, Kíli, please—"

Kíli grabbed Fíli's wrist and looked out at the approaching shapes. "He's almost here, Fíli. Just listen to what he has to say."

Fíli looked around frantically, as if he were looking for a means of escape, but Kíli held his wrist tight. He looked back out towards his kin. They were almost to the tomb. Thorin was running towards them, and Fíli pressed himself into the stone and looked down. Kíli waited until Thorin was nearly upon them before he let his brother go; then he stood and stepped back. Thorin came crashing to his knees before his heir.

"Fíli!" he said, taking his nephew's face in his hands. Fíli flinched and continued to look down, but Thorin forced his head back up.

"Fíli, are you all right?" Thorin said. He looked him over quickly for injuries; finding nothing, he turned his attention back to Fíli's face. "You can't run off like that, lad… after all that has happened… I can't lose you again. Not again."

Fíli did not reply. He was looking at Thorin with a furrowed brow, confusion written all over his face.

"I am sorry, Fíli," Thorin continued. "I rejected you when I should have accepted you. I should have celebrated at your homecoming and instead I was angry. Please forgive your bitter old uncle."

Still Fíli said nothing, continuing to stare in disbelief. Thorin pulled himself closer and touched his temples to Fíli's, closing his eyes tightly.

"None of it was your fault," he said. "The words, the attacks… you were victim to circumstances outside your control, and you should not be blamed for any of it. I forgive it all, my boy. Do not blame yourself. Please come home."

Fíli looked as if he could hardly believe what he was hearing. Thorin pulled back and looked at him expectantly, and Fíli opened and closed his mouth a few times before he could make words come out.

"You… you still… want me?" Fíli said, his voice small and timid.

"Of course I do," Thorin said.

"You're not angry with me?" said Fíli.

Thorin shook his head. "I was wrong to ever be angry with you at all," he said. "Please forgive me."

Fíli's lower lip quivered, and he nodded fervently. "Of course," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Of course, Uncle, I forgive—"

Before he could finish speaking, Thorin pulled him into a tight embrace. At first, Fíli looked startled; after a few moments, he returned the embrace, clinging to Thorin's tunic. His eyes moved to and fro as he struggled to process what had just happened. A smile grew on his face, and he clung to Thorin even tighter, pressing his nose into his uncle's collarbone.

Then, Fíli burst into tears.

 


	34. Love

Kíli was  _not_  in a good mood.

With far more force than necessary, Kíli flung a stack of hay to the other side of Pepper's stall. This was far from his idea of fun—after all he had done for everyone, too. The smell of pipe-weed reached his nose, and he looked up, searching for the source. What he would do for some pipe-weed—and a break from all this  _work_ … Fíli stood at the entrance of the stables, smoking his pipe and smirking.

"You could help, you know," Kíli grumbled, returning to his work.

"Oh, I think not," said Fíli, his voice shaking with suppressed laughter. "You got yourself into this mess. Er… literally."

"I don't understand why I have to clean  _every_  stall," Kíli said, flinging another mass of dirty hay. " _I'm_  the one who made everything better—"

"You had quite the way of doing it," Fíli interrupted. "With what you've done, regardless of the outcome, you should be in jail, and you know it. Thorin's going  _very_  easy on you."

"Yeah, well," Kíli huffed. Fíli was right. He had gone against his uncle's word and caused mountains of worry for everyone involved—and Thorin's cheekbone had developed into a deep shade of purple after Kíli's assault. Cleaning the stables from top to bottom was the mildest punishment he could have been given—though to Kíli, it seemed to be punishment on top of punishment. Thorin had lectured him for what had felt like hours about the errors of his ways, and Kíli had been forced to simply sit and listen to all of it.

"Well, get moving, lazybones!" Fíli said, gesturing at the stall and then putting his pipe back in his mouth. When Kíli cast him a glare, his chest started bouncing as he coughed quietly, his lips twisting against a grin.

"You're enjoying this a little too much," Kíli said, leaning on his pitchfork.

"That's because your face is hilarious when you're angry," Fíli quipped.

Immediately Kíli scooped a pile of manure onto his pitchfork and flung it in Fíli's direction, but Fíli had already scampered off, giggling gleefully. As much as Kíli wanted to stay angry, he could not help smiling at the sound of Fíli's laughter. It was a welcome sound after the past weeks.

Kíli looked back at the work before him with a sigh. He had already been at it for a while, and it looked like it was going to be sunset at the earliest before he was done. He and Fíli were usually in charge of keeping the stables clean, and while others had helped out while they were gone, it had gotten much dirtier than it usually was. He certainly had his work cut out for him.  _Better get to it._

The work was long and hard, and Fíli stopped by to snicker a few more times—although he  _did_  bring food and water at one point. The sun had set, but finally Kíli had finished. He trudged into the house, exhausted, and headed for the living room.

"Ah-ah, not so fast!" cried his mother from the kitchen table. Kíli stopped in his tracks and looked at her incredulously.

"I'm tired, Mum," he complained.

"I'm sure you are, but you are  _not_  going to sit on my furniture after working with manure all day," Dís retorted. "Go wash up, and then you can rest."

Kíli scowled and stomped off to the bathroom to wash off. It wasn't as if he had  _rolled_  in it. He was tired and he had been in a bad mood all day, and now he was being denied the luxury of relaxation. He had half a mind to go flop on the couch in the living room anyway—but his mother's wrath was not worth it. He would wash up.

Fíli was in the bedroom when Kíli came in to dress; he lay on the bed facing the far wall. At first, he seemed to be asleep, and Kíli attempted to be as quiet as possible. But then Fíli shifted—a telltale sign that he was awake. Kíli paused, waiting for his brother to speak.

"Uncle wants to have a feast," Fíli said.

Kíli considered this for a moment as he threw on his tunic. "Sounds like a good time."

"For  _me_ , Kíli," Fíli said. He rolled over and looked at his brother, his eyes shining nervously. "He wants to have a feast to celebrate."

"Well, I think it's a good idea," said Kíli. "Everyone should know that you're all right, don't you think?"

"But some of them  _know_ , Kíli," Fíli said. "They were at the jail, or they searched for us while we were gone—Bofur had to  _stop_  me—"

"I think you're worrying too much," Kíli cut in. "Thorin is the leader of our people, and if he says you're worthy to be his heir, no one is going to question him."

Fíli was silent for a few moments. Kíli could see him trying to come up with objections, and he sighed.

"Fíli, I am sure it will be fine," he said. "I've been telling you this since the beginning…"

"I know, I know," said Fíli, waving his hand dismissively and rolling back over to face the wall. "I'm just… not a natural optimist like you, I guess."

"You'll see, Fíli," said Kíli. "Everything will be fine. You'll have a good time."

"If you say so," said Fíli quietly.

* * *

The day of the feast had finally come. All the preparations had been made; all the guests had been called. The food was ready, and everyone was in attendance.

Everyone except Fíli.

Kíli looked out at the attendees and sighed. They had set up the village hall for the event, and many dwarves had been invited—not the entire village, but their kin and many good friends—at least forty people. The feast had not officially started yet, but it was starting  _soon_ , and Fíli was already supposed to be here.

"Kíli, where is your brother?" said Dís quietly, sidling up to her son.

"I don't know," Kíli said. "He  _knows_  he's supposed to be here already."

"Well, go find him," she said, giving him a gentle push towards the exit. "If he's at home  _moping_ …"

"All right, I'm going," said Kíli, rolling his eyes as he made for the door. Fíli probably  _was_  at home—he had been nervous about this event since Thorin had first mentioned it to him, and his unease had only seemed to grow in the days following. He was probably hiding in their bedroom, hoping no one would come look for him.  _As if Thorin would have a feast without the guest of honor,_  Kíli thought with a suppressed grin.

The walk was not long, and soon Kíli was home. He opened the front door and peered inside; Fíli was not immediately visible, but the bedroom door was closed. He walked over quietly and opened it. Fíli was sitting on the bed, his back up against the headboard and his knees drawn up to his chest, already dressed in his formal clothes. He jumped when Kíli poked his head in, and Kíli pressed his lips together to keep from grinning.

"The feast is about to start," said Kíli, leaning on the door. "Come on."

Fíli shook his head, frowning and staring at the cold fireplace. Kíli sighed and stepped into the room.

"Fíli, this feast is for  _you_ ," he said. "You should be there."

"I can't," Fíli said, shaking his head again. "I know I should, but I just—I can't, Kíli. They  _know_ … everyone knows." He looked down at his knees. "They're not going to accept me back."

"Do you really think they would show up to a feast in your honor if they weren't glad you were back?" said Kíli, raising an eyebrow.

Fíli raised his eyebrows and let free a tiny smile, but he did not move. Kíli frowned.

"Fíli, come on," he said.

"I don't want to go," Fíli mumbled, drawing his knees up even further.

"You can't just  _not go_ ," Kíli said, rolling his eyes. "We're waiting for you."

"What if I just come a bit later?" said Fíli, looking up at his brother hopefully.

"No, because if I leave without you, you're not going to move," Kíli retorted. He wasn't going to fall for  _that_.

"So?" Fíli mumbled, pressing his chin into his knees.

"Fíli, if I don't come back with you, Mum's going to come to get both of us," Kíli warned. "She's probably already on her way."

This almost moved Fíli. He shifted a bit, but then he settled again, frowning deeply. "I can't."

"Yes, you  _can_."

"Kíli," said Fíli, looking up at his brother again. "Remember when we were almost home and we stopped for dinner a bit outside of the village?"

Kíli blinked. "You mean when you felt sick?"

Fíli nodded. "That's how I feel right now," he said quietly, casting his gaze downward.

Suddenly, Kíli understood. It wasn't that Fíli  _wouldn't_  go—he really felt as if he  _couldn't_. He moved forward and sat down on the bed, shoulder-to-shoulder with his brother, and nudged him gently. Fíli took a deep breath and cast him an appreciative look.

"You're handling it better this time," Kíli commented.

"Well, maybe it looks that way, but it doesn't  _feel_  that way," Fíli said. He groaned and looked up at the ceiling, his head hitting the headboard. "I  _hate_  this. I hate that I can't stop it."

"Maybe if you just come, it'll go away," said Kíli, but Fíli shook his head violently.

"No, no, I'm staying here," he said. "I don't want to face all those people—"

"They're friends and kin, Fíli, and they are all more than happy to welcome you back," said Kíli. "We're not going to face a rabble of orcs or trolls."

"Can we just sit for a bit, please?" Fíli said in a high voice. "Let's just sit quietly for a while, and then we can go."

Kíli raised an eyebrow, but he nodded. Their mother was definitely going to come after them now. He leaned his shoulder into Fíli, and Fíli leaned back; for a few minutes, neither one of them spoke. Soon, the sound of the front door opening and closing reached Kíli's ears.  _Right on schedule._

"Kíli? Fíli?" called Dís. Fíli looked up, his eyes widening, as their mother's footsteps drew nearer. She peered into the bedroom and eyed her sons, shooting a scathing look at Kíli, who cringed under her critical eye.

"It's time to start, boys," she said. "Get up. We're waiting for you."

"Fíli doesn't feel well," Kíli said. Fíli cast him a grateful glance, but Dís only looked at him skeptically.

"Fíli, are you dying?" she said.

"No," said Fíli sheepishly.

"Then  _up_ ," she said. "We're all waiting." She strode further into the room, reaching out for her eldest; Kíli took one look at Fíli's panicked face and dove forward, blocking him from her reach.

"Mum, don't," he said. "Trust me."

Dís looked from Kíli to Fíli, her brow furrowed; she studied Fíli's face for a few moments and then looked back to her youngest.

"Kíli, can I talk to you in the kitchen?" she said.

Fíli grabbed Kíli's wrist, and Kíli looked back at his brother. His shining blue eyes said  _don't tell her_ , but Kíli simply smiled reassuringly and shrugged. Fíli held on for a moment longer, his grip tightening, but then he sighed and let go, leaning back again. Kíli hopped off the bed and followed his mother into the kitchen, closing the door behind him.

"What is wrong with him?" she said softly.

"He's… panicking," Kíli replied. "At least, that's the closest word I can come up with."

Dís's brow creased, and her deep blue eyes drifted to the closed door. "Why?"

"Well, he thinks people aren't going to accept him," said Kíli. "He did this before we came home, too—but it was worse that time. He didn't think you or Uncle would accept him either. Especially Uncle."

"That's rubbish," said Dís, raising her volume. "They can't wait to see him."

"I know, and I told him that, but he says he can't stop it. The panicking, I mean."

Dís twisted her lips and thought for a moment. "All right," she said, "you stay here. I'll be back soon."

"Where are you going?" Kíli asked.

"I'm going to get your uncle," she said. "Maybe he can convince Fíli to come."

Kíli nodded, and Dís departed quickly, leaving him alone in the kitchen. He turned around as soon as his mother was gone and peeked into the bedroom. Fíli was in the same place as before.

"Do I have to go?" he said, his voice wavering.

"You just sit there and try to relax," Kíli said evasively. "I'll be out here, all right?"

"Thank you, Kíli," said Fíli, his body visibly relaxing. Kíli said nothing and closed the door again. If Fíli knew that Thorin was coming to retrieve him, Kíli did not know what he would do, but he didn't really want to find out. He may have had more experience now with Fíli's emotional outbursts, but that didn't mean he was comfortable dealing with them.  _Let the experienced ones take care of that._

It was not long before Dís returned with her brother in tow. Thorin looked to Kíli, his brow knit in confusion, searching his nephew's eyes for answers. Kíli stepped forward and began to speak in a hushed tone.

"He's afraid no one will accept him," he said. "He's panicking—really badly. I don't know if he can make it stop."

Thorin nodded curtly. "Let's go talk to him, then," he said. "All of us." He strode towards the bedroom, and Kíli and Dís followed close behind. When the three of them entered the bedroom, Fíli sat up straight, his eyes wide and shining. He opened his mouth to speak, but Thorin spoke first.

"It's all right, Fíli," he said. "Calm down."

"I'm sorry, Uncle," Fíli said quickly. "I know you planned this feast for me, but I just can't—"

"Fíli, everyone is waiting for you," Thorin interrupted. "They are eager to see you. Please come."

"But I  _can't_ ," Fíli protested, his voice cracking. "W-what if they see me, and they remember what I've done, and they can never look at me the same way again? I can't face them… they know what happened. They  _all_  know."

"So do we," said Thorin, sitting down on the bed. "And we're still here."

Fíli blinked rapidly as he processed Thorin's words. He opened his mouth and then shut it again, staring at his family in amazement.

" _Everyone_  missed you, Fíli," Thorin continued. He leaned forward and reached out, taking hold of Fíli's head and pulling it towards his own. Their temples touched, and Fíli closed his eyes.

"Now, come on," said Thorin softly. "Your family is with you."

Fíli nodded and took a deep breath, and Thorin smiled and released him. He stood and reached for the cane leaning against the wall—the same cane Kíli had used when he was recovering from his lung injury—and held it ready for his eldest nephew. Fíli scooted off the bed and took it gratefully; though he was healing well, it was still painful for him to walk any distance. He looked around at his family, his brows drawn apart and his expression caught between tears and joy.

The four of them made their way slowly to the village hall; the closer they got, the louder it became, and Fíli began to quail. Thorin put a hand on his back, and Fíli looked up at him; Thorin smiled. With another deep breath, he continued on, and soon they were at the doorway. Kíli and Dís went in first, and Thorin came behind them with Fíli at his side.

When the crowd saw Fíli, they let loose a loud cheer of welcome, and Kíli looked back at his brother; his eyes were wide, and though he didn't smile, Kíli could see that he was deeply honored. He grinned and clapped along with the other dwarves. Thorin led Fíli to the head of the banquet table. He sat down, and Fíli sat at his right hand; Kíli sat at his left, and his mother sat beside him. Everyone moved about, chattering and laughing and finding their seats. Then, Thorin stood again and held up a hand, and everyone settled down and waited for him to speak.

"I have the pleasure of presenting to you today a very important and respectable dwarf," he began, his voice taking on its official speech-tone. Kíli and Fíli looked at each other, and Kíli rolled his eyes; Fíli pressed his lips together and attempted to hold in a giggle. Thorin's speeches were often long and boring, and now everyone would have to sit through it. Kíli wondered if the food would still be warm when he had finished.

"We dwarves are a great race, made by our Maker with sturdy, stout hearts and bodies," Thorin continued. "We were created to be able to endure hardships and face the dark powers of this world with courage. But there are great powers in this world, some that may be greater than us—powers we may not even have known or heard about. Even the greatest dwarf can be caught unaware at times. This is lamentable, but not unforgivable." Thorin looked at Fíli and smiled. "For even our Maker, Mahal, Aulë the Smith, lover and maker of all that is in and of the materials of the earth, had to be forgiven by Ilúvatar for straying from his path. He desired pupils of his own that would love him and learn his ways, and he became impatient for the coming of Elves and Men. So he created the Khâzad—us. When Ilúvatar discovered what he had done, Mahal repented for going against his Master's will and raised his hammer to destroy us… but instead of allowing us to be destroyed, Ilúvatar gave us life. He forgave Mahal, and we have His forgiveness to thank for our existence. Sometimes, a transgression can bring about good."

"Hear, hear!" called someone from down the table.

"And so, though we have gone through hardships lately, I would like us all to remember the story of our creation today," said Thorin, nodding graciously at the enthusiastic listener. "There is no one more honest, hardworking, loyal, and kind as the dwarf at my right hand today. He is certainly deserving of not only forgiveness from all of us, but of honor and respect from this day forward. He is the heir to the throne of Erebor, and when his time comes, I am confident that he will excel at ruling the people. I proudly present to all of you Fíli, son of Jóli, Prince of the Line of Durin."

The hall instantly filled with thunderous applause as Thorin gestured at Fíli, who sat with wide eyes, looking out at all the dwarves cheering at the mention of his name. His eyes drifted to Kíli, who motioned for him to stand up; remembering his manners, Fíli stood quickly, smiling and nodding at the people still applauding for him. Thorin put a hand on his back, and Fíli looked up at him; Thorin smiled back and turn to face the people again.

"All right, eat!" Thorin said.

Everyone's attention immediately turned to the feast in front of them, and Thorin and Fíli sat back down at the head of the table. Kíli reached for some food to put on his plate, but Fíli simply sat with his head down for a moment; then he spoke.

"Excuse me for a moment," he said softly, rising and leaving the room. Dís nudged Kíli and pointed after Fíli, and he rose and followed his brother. He found him just outside the hall, leaning against the outer wall. When he saw Kíli, he jumped and wiped hastily at his eyes.

"You didn't need to follow me," Fíli said.

"Mum told me to," Kíli replied, leaning against the wall next to his brother. He looked at him sidelong. "You all right?"

Fíli nodded and wiped his eyes again. "I'm fine," he said. "Just… a little overwhelmed, I guess."

"Turned out better than you expected, didn't it?" Kíli said with a sly grin.

Fíli laughed and nodded. "A bit better, yes."

"Thorin's speech was surprisingly short. That was a mercy."

Fíli laughed again and nodded, but he said nothing else. Kíli eyed him carefully.

"Still feeling sick?" he said.

"A little," Fíli replied with a shrug. "But it's getting better. I'll be all right."

"Hm," said Kíli, pressing his back into the wall. "Want to go back in, then?"

"I guess I should," said Fíli, pushing himself up with a grunt. "After all, this feast is for me, isn't it? I should probably be at my own party."

" _Now_  you're getting it," said Kíli, grinning. He patted Fíli on the shoulder, and his brother smiled sheepishly and made for the entrance to the hall. Kíli walked alongside him, and together they entered the room to a hearty, slightly drunken welcome. Fíli waved courteously at the crowd and retook his seat at Thorin's right hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here be the end. Thank you for sticking with me through this… you’ve all been so wonderful to me. Special, loving thanks to Mhyin and madammadhatter for being such spectacular friends and helpers in the writing of this fic… without you two, I don’t know what this story would have been like, and I am so incredibly grateful for all of your help.
> 
> For extra feels, go look up the song “We Fall Apart” by We As Human and listen to it right now. It’s the “credits song” for Illusions, if you will.
> 
> Many of you have asked what is next for me! Well, I’m going to edit the crap out of this fic—especially earlier chapters. While I’m doing that, I’ve got a story idea or two up my sleeve—though I hope nothing gets as long as this was! What a journey. But there are some more Durin fics in the future (with an extra helping of whump), and I would love if you followed me as an author so you can see when those come out. I don’t know when I’ll start on them, but keep an eye out! Once the third movie comes out, I will also be working on an Everybody Lives AU, which you probably have heard about if you follow me on tumblr (my url is mistergandalf). It should be fun!  
> If you would like a paper copy of Illusions, that will be a thing in the future. But not quite yet, so don’t ask me about it. Paper copies of Race Against Time, however, should be available quite soon, so let me know if you want one.
> 
> Until next time, novaer, mellyn nin. Hannon le.


End file.
